


boy wonder(ed)

by acastle



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Actor Niall, Canon Compliant, M/M, Near Future, The Teen Titans - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-09 22:07:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 54,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6925228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acastle/pseuds/acastle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He picks it up, running his fingers through the label on the front, ‘FOR N.J. HORAN’S EXCLUSIVE USE,’ pulls out the script from within, and printed simply on the front page, <i>‘DC’S THE TEEN TITANS,’</i> and underneath, ‘By Drew Goddard and Jonathan Nolan.’</p><p>(or Niall gets offered a role, and he just wants to know what Harry wants.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	boy wonder(ed)

**Author's Note:**

> this be my baby, 54k of me just imagining and fleshing out a dream I had about Niall being the world's most famous super sidekick, and indulging my fantasies of putting him in spandex, having him go to Comic Con, and acting. Some of it's not all that great, but I had fun, nonetheless.
> 
> I'm sure actual film sets don't operate the way I wrote it. Just going by what I know and filled in the rest. Suspend disbelief please. And if you're a Titans superfan, I'm sorry haha. I took many elements from the comics, and from the TV cartoon, and mashed it up. So.
> 
> I'm mean to Harry. Just to warn everyone now aha, this really is more of a 'Niall as an actor feat. Harry sometimes' fic. Takes place November of 2016 onwards.
> 
> Edit: Robin is called a white boy here though he is of Romanian descent, by Cyborg. If that bothers you, my apologies.

_ “Ay, Niall, just read through the script,”  _ Ciara, his lovely, very pushy agent, is saying, sounding tired and maybe losing the little bit of hope she’d had coming into the phone call,  _ “Just read through it, then we can arrange a meeting with Mr. Goddard-” _

“Fuck me, I’m not an actor, love,” he says, and he can’t fuck with this call, stuck in the hallway leading to the private boxes of The O2 while the sound of the crowd inside the arena is barely muffled. He doesn’t know how to act, and he’s supposed to be on break, first November in years where he’s not stuck doing promo, and he enjoys all the interviews and singing and everything, but he’d like to take a breather before they’re meant to make another album and inevitably tour around for it. “I’m sure he means well, but I’m no Robin! Aren’t enough members of this band attempting to become actors already?”

_ “Niall, that’s not - look, Harry will be great,”  _ she’s saying, trying to salvage what’s left of this pseudo-meeting,  _ “But this is an amazingly huge opportunity for you, whether or not you will get into acting properly. Imagine, if the one role you play is Dick Grayson. It’s still great.” _

“Wasn’t Goddard the creator of that show on Netflix?  _ ‘Daredevil’  _ was it?” he muses, “Sick show. But that’s Marvel, innit? There must be some kind of code, to not work for the enemy once you’ve done it.”

_ “Not true, Reynolds went back to Marvel after that god awful excuse for a ‘Green Lantern’ film,’”  _ she says quickly.  _ “Just. Just read it. If you’re worried about the acting and everything-” _

“I’m not doing an accent for a whole six months, I’m not!”

_ “It’ll be fine, you’re sick at those, and there’ll be other people in the film,”  _ she says, talking over him, and she’s one of the few who can do that without feeling bad about it. Maybe it’s the fact that she’s Irish as well, or they’d kind of grown up together in Mullingar before he’d taken a chance with The X Factor.  _ “It’s not like the camera will be on you the entire time. Just. Read the script. Please. He knows what he’s doing, and he said he wanted you. Drew Goddard said he knew you were it, so. You’re Robin, Niall. I totally agree with him. You’d be amazing. Please, just read it.” _

Niall considers the plea, and he sighs. “I’ll see, but I can’t keep any promises. We’re coming back soon, and I know this takes  _ years-” _

_ “I know, Niall, I know. But please, please consider it,”  _ she tells him.  _ “Just read it over.” _

He sighs again and tells her, “I took a chance in hiring you, Ciara. You better be right about this. I’m shit at acting, but I’ll read it through. Not now, though. Okay?”

_ “I - fine,”  _ she says, finally conceding.  _ “Just. Don’t count this one out, alright? Please, think it through. Really.” _

“Okay,” he says, and they say their goodbyes and hang up simultaneously. He sighs again, for the sake of it, and turns his attention back to the stage where Justin’s just started strumming to his guitar and singing ‘Love Yourself,’ and he tries to enjoy himself, got his fancy hand jacket on and is drinking some champagne out of a plastic cup.

It’s not that he’s not flattered that someone, let alone Drew Goddard, robbed of the Oscar for ‘The Martian,’ had thought him fit to portray the most known Teen Titan and the most famous superhero sidekick ever created. If there was anything that had ever boosted his ego as much as this did. 

It’s just. He has his boys, and they haven't got much much time before this break ends, and they are his top priority when it comes to work commitments. Wouldn’t want to blindside them by not being available for whatever they’ve got planned, for next year and beyond.

.

The four of them meet up not long after he’d received the news that he’d been wanted for a role. He hasn’t said no, not yet, hasn’t read the script, either, but in time.

Louis is looking a bit more tired than usual, but the smile on his face and the way he just carries himself tells Niall that he doesn’t mind all that much. The picture of him kissing Freddie as his lockscreen is another clue. Liam is on the phone when he gets to the cafe, and he hears something about  _ “I could stop by for eggs, later. Yeah, yeah-”  _ and it’s been some time, since he’s heard Liam getting domestic with someone. It’s still really weird, knowing that person had been the one to say ‘no’ to him back in Dublin when he’d auditioned, that she’d watched them grow up in front of her, but it’s none of his business. He seems happy enough, and that’s all there is to it.

Harry’s not there yet, which isn’t something unusual, not anymore. He knows that he’s been busy, and off being amazing and too famous somewhere. It’s not Niall’s kind of thing.

“Right,” Lou claps his hands once, just as their orders of tea, an Americano, and a fig and prosciutto bruschetta platter arrive to the table. “So. Here we go again.”

“Another go round for all of my friends,” Liam is the one to complete it for him, popping one of the crunchy toasted breads into his mouth. “Should wait for Haz, though.”

“He'd never be seen in a place so ordinary as this, in  _ London,  _ of all places,” Louis waves it off, and it's true to an extent, but the comment is unkind. Niall frowns on Harry's behalf, doesn't think it's fair for him to talk about him that way. “Too busy eating kale and wearing stupid eyewear-”

“Lou, come on,” he says, frowns. “That's a bit far, innit?”

“Pretty far,” Harry says, announcing his arrival as he slides into the seat next to Liam. He's wearing that one white shirt, washed so often and so thoroughly it's almost sheer, and a ridiculous pair of round, Jackie O-esque eyewear in tortoise. It looks strange, with his shorter hair. Just the slightest bit wavy, reminiscent of Marcel way back when, like a lifetime ago. Can’t have been more than a few years. “But the sunglasses aren’t doing me any favors, are they?”

“Just, just take ‘em off,” Louis says, eyeing him dangerously and sounding like he’s got the smallest amount of patience for it. He’s not playing around, actually waits for him to remove them and only then does he speak again, “Right. As we were saying. 2017, plans, new label, new management, blah blah. Lay it on me. Seems pretty obvious that we’ll be handled by someone new, yeah? Already got a headstart on that, didn’t you, Harry?”

“I’m sure Jeff would be more than happy to handle all of us, Lou,” he says, and his voice is forcibly light, and Niall is so tired of this. He’d technically hired a friend to be his agent as well, but none of the others know about it yet, only been official a few weeks. Only did it when Louis and Liam had told him separately, maybe a month ago, of their own volition, that they should find a new agents, new management teams, because it was highly unlikely that Harry would change his mind about the Azoffs. Harry’s transition to Jeff’s agency had been a long time coming and was so highly publicized and he seems to thrive in the attention. Niall loves him, but Harry is exhausting.

“Did it without telling us, yeah, that seems fair,” Niall murmurs softly, doesn’t mean to say it out loud, but there it is. Harry snaps his mouth shut, and Louis and Liam look at him in surprise. Always been the one to be on his side, but now. Louis even gives him a badly hidden smirk. 

“Alright, well. Regardless of our differing management situations,” Liam says, trying to take hold of the situation, “Our career together should be handled by a collective agency, and then, um, individually. It’ll depend. There should be ways on how to still be a band. Or, in the very least, collaborators, of a sort.”

“Fuck that, Payno, we’re One Direction. We said we’d come back,” he says, and this is making him sad, disappointed. “You lot promised we’d be back.”

“We are, fuck, that’s not what - look,” he says, sighs as he thinks. “I want to come back. Been writing tons of shit for us. Lou’s done the same, yeah?”

“Between nappy changes and feeding and shopping for little tiny shoes? All I’ve done,” Louis replies, and Niall has no doubt that they’ve been doing much of that writing together as well. “Been missing that studio, that stage. I’ll tell you the truth, full stop. Don’t really mind much at the moment who’s gonna be our agents, our label, whatever, at least not at the moment. Just want to be back with you boys.”

“What about Freddie? And Bri?” he has to ask, and Louis gives him a small smile.

“There’s a way for that all. But I want to do this. I want to come back,” he says. He looks so sure of it, not a shred of doubt on his face. “I’m ready, we’re ready. Eighteen months, we said, yeah? We’re almost there. Let’s do it.”

“Yeah, count me in,” Niall says, and the feeling is returning to his limbs, slowly. “Been ready for ages.”

“Needs to be unanimous,” Liam says, and the cafe is busy, there don’t seem to be many people really paying attention to them. Four famous blokes catching up or whatever. There are people who glance at them, recognize them and are talking excitedly on whether or not to approach them, but they’re left alone, for the most part. Maybe shouldn’t have done this in a place so public, but conference rooms and the like always made them feel uneasy, like. Too official. Too sombre.

“Harry,” he says, glances to him, and Niall and Louis do the same. 

Harry is quiet, looks unsure and can’t quite meet their gaze, and Niall starts losing the feeling in his fingers again.

It would be stupid to deny that Harry was the most popular, the most famous out of all of them. He is, and it’s not a huge deal, not like they’d really cared. He’d been the busiest, public persona-wise, what with the yachts and the movie and the pap walks and the talk about solo music. It’s not their deal, not the kind of lives they’d want to live, and Harry does love the attention, so they’d given it to him, let him have practically all of it. 

It  _ does  _ become a big deal to them then, though, when he says, “I’m. Shit. I’m sorry.”

He feels his heart drop to his stomach, and he feels the other two freeze up around him.

“Haz,” Liam says slowly, but Harry won’t look at any of them.

“Um. No. Not because I don’t want to, but. I’ve, um,” he says in his excruciatingly slow drawl, made a million times worse by his nerves and apologetic tone, “I’ve made some music, and Jeff and I. We’d been discussing a bit of a tour, and I want to do it. Um, made, made arrangements, and. Until end of next year, maybe.”

“You fuck,” Louis says almost immediately, and Niall wants the earth to swallow him all of a sudden. Liam looks as white as the plate the bruschetta’s on. “Harry, you promised last year.  _ We’d agreed on this.  _ Eighteen months to do whatever the fuck we wanted, then we come back. I honestly think we’d given you a lot of time to have done this earlier if you wanted. Made a movie, didn’t you? And you’re even going to do the promo tour for it, we were prepared for that. But not  _ this.” _

“Lou, I know, I swear, but this might never happen again,” he says, but even he doesn’t seem so convinced.

“Harry, you’re daft if you think no one will want to hear your solo music,” Liam says, and he still looks pale, but now he looks disappointed as well. “But that’s not the point. We talked about this, and you still agreed to doing this? Without telling us?”

“It wasn’t an easy decision for me to make-”

“Harry, the fuck, who gives a shit,” Niall can’t quite hold it in, and he explodes quietly, “I give fuck all if you want to release your pretentious folk solo record and tour on your own until your seventies. You know full well that we’d support you through that if you’d told us properly. What I give a shit about is the fact that you went back on your word and decided to do all of that and make yourself so unavailable for your bandmates, who’d actually planned around this comeback, without giving us a heads up.”

“Niall,” he breathes, and they’d all seen each other at their lowest points, but he’s not used to this type of anger, not from him. 

“I don’t know about you, but I gave you the courtesy of my time and a promise to be available for when you needed me,” he says. “The least you could have done was tell us ahead of time that you didn’t want to come back, so we could have gotten a head start on moving on too.”

He stands, and he knows he’s drawing even more attention to their table, but he’s too mad. Louis and Liam look up, alarmed and they try to calm him down quietly, but Harry seems to have shrunk in his seat, can’t look him in the eye and he seems smaller than he really is. 

Niall feels bad, for doing that to him, and it adds to the awful, weird sensation in his chest, but he knows if he opens his mouth, he’ll just go on a tirade and make it worse. They’d both done enough damage, here. 

He leaves without another word, and he hears muttering and whispering buzzing around him, and he knows this is going to be on Twitter, somehow make it to Buzzfeed or thereabouts, The Sun, whatever. 

He gets back to his house, and everything is making him angry and sad, and it’s making his skin crawl. He huffs and he’s too old for tantrums, and he wants to apologize for being so cross, but he can’t help but also want an apology in return. For being blindsided like this when he’d done his best to not do the same for them.

He knows he went too far. But he will be mad about this, because the not telling them part of all this had already lost them one member. If he’d just  _ told them. _

He makes himself a pot of tea, and he’s slowly calming down as he waits for the kettle comes up to a boil. Then, his eyes land on the rather thick manila envelope on his island, the contents of which he’d not read through yet.

He picks it up, running his fingers through the label on the front, ‘FOR N.J. HORAN’S EXCLUSIVE USE,’ pulls out the script from within, and printed simply on the front page,  _ ‘DC’S THE TEEN TITANS,’  _ and underneath,  _ ‘By Drew Goddard and Jonathan Nolan.’  _ There’s a watermark on every page, bearing the same words as the label, so he knows that should he lose any one sheet and if that sheet find it’s way to the internet, God forbid, they’ll track him down. 

He sighs, turns to the first page, and begins to read. 

.

He has Ciara set up a lunch meeting for the next week.

Fuck him, but he really loved it. Wants to do it, knows it will be hard, knows he’s going to have to do a shit ton of research via comic book reading and prep and training and fuck all just to be ready for it, but it was an amazing script, full of depth and a lot of unexpected humor but a lot of heart and he really, really wants to do it. 

They’re meeting in a small restaurant just outside of Hollywood. Can't fuck with any photographers or whatnot, so he makes sure they get a private booth inside. 

He gets there first, and he tries to drink his glass of water to relieve his dry mouth, dry throat, but he's not thirsty in the least. 

“Mr. Horan,” he looks up, and Drew Goddard’s walking up to the table with a small smile on his face, hand outstretched and Niall takes it immediately. His eyebrows are thick, his beard a bit thicker, and Niall feels like he's a type of man knows what he's doing. Makes him feel a bit more relief. “It's good to meet you. Thank you for coming all this way.”

He loses his words, knows he should say something along the lines of,  _ ‘It was no trouble,’  _ even though it was, or  _ ‘It's my pleasure,’  _ which it really is, but what he says instead is, “You should have won that Oscar.”

He laughs, and Niall sighs in relief internally despite himself. Thanks his lack of mind for breaking the ice.

“Thank you,” he takes a seat across him. 

“I don't know how a lot of this goes, most of the time,” Niall says, nervousness and scared shitless because he has no idea what he's doing, “but I would like to discuss, um, discuss this, no pretense or all of that. Um, Mr. Goddard-”

“Drew, please,” he says, and another small smile. 

“Oh, thank you. Niall, then,” he clarifies, then he continues, “I'm not an actor. I'm quite sure I've said that before, multiple times. I will, no doubt, be the weakest link in your cast, should I ever agree to doing this. I'm going to need the most help, most direction, the most takes, I assume, just. I'd be a poor choice.”

“You trying to deter me from choosing you?” he says, eyebrow raised slightly. He looks a little amused, and he says, “let that be my problem, then. You're just giving me more reasons to cast you. I didn't just pick your name out of many because of your fame, Niall, as much of a random choice I’m sure you're thinking you are.”

“I  _ am  _ a random choice, though,” he says, just murmurs it, and Drew chuckles. “I'm from a boy band. Not even the most popular one in said band. People will go ballistic, and I'm gonna get Afflecked. I think I'd do more harm-”

“I'll stop you right there,” he says kindly, and and he looks calm as ever, poised and he’s got that look, that he knows he’s going to get what he wants, but not at all arrogant. Must be an amazing pitchman. “Maybe, first things first, I have to explain to you why I chose you.”

“I - yeah, um, that would be great,” he says lamely, but Drew is patient. 

“You’re much smarter than you let on,” he says, “and it’s disarming in the best ways possible. Don’t take it the wrong way when I say that not many people expect you to be the type to stay up for the International Space Station or be so quietly clever and informed about social issues.”

“I don’t know how that connects me to Robin,” he says slowly, tries to wrap his head around it.

“Dick Grayson is intelligent, skilled, no doubt,” he says, “but as amazing he is with Batman, he’s a leader when he’s with the Titans.”

“I’m no leader,” he says immediately, and Drew just smiles wider.

“He doesn’t really see himself as one, either,” he says. “He doesn’t quite know that the others look to him and it’s just something natural, just seems fit that he be the one to hold the team together. Much the way you are with your band.”

“I. I’m sorry, I-”

“He is the heart of the Titans,” he says, and his smile and eyes are warm. “Seems only fit that I hire the heart of the biggest group in the world.”

Niall swallows. “I’m still no actor.”

“That can be helped,” he says, shrugs. “But rarely have I found the Robin quality so strong in someone. You’re the Boy Wonder. It would be a genuine honor to help you realize that, if you could consider.”

Niall swallows again, doesn’t know what to say. “I. I’ll think about it,” though he knows he wants to do it, despite his reservations and doubts. Just needs a blessing.

“Alright, well,” he smiles, brings out a thin parcel from his bag, and hands it over to him. Niall peeks through the flap, and, “Regardless of whether or not you take it, a gift. First issue of  _ The New Teen Titans,  _ quite rare, from 1980. Script is based mostly on this timeline, I thought you would appreciate it.”

“I do, yes,” Niall says dumbly, but he really does. “Thank you.”

He pulls it out from the plastic, and stares at the cover. Cyborg, Starfire, Raven, Beast Boy, and they’re not in the final script, but there’s Kid Flash, and Wonder Girl. Front and center, Robin. Adds another thing to think about, that Niall’s rarely so forward, so focused on even in the band. Maybe a reason to reject the role. Maybe another reason to take it. 

He thinks. Says, “If I were to do this, means I’d have to do my research.”

“A lot of comic book reading, yes,” he says.

“And. I’d have to bulk up a bit,” he says, “get all flexible and shit.”

“He  _ is  _ an acrobat,” Drew considers, a bit of a shrug.

“Dialect coach to get the accent completely right, acting coach for everything else, and I have to dye my hair black,” he lists, and he’s letting himself be obvious, but not outright.

Drew beams, but he goes along with it, says, “Heard you’re good with an accent, though.”

He shakes his head immediately and feels himself flush, because no, not actually, Niall’s just a stupid twat.

They order lunch, and spend hours in there as everything is explained to him. Vision for the film, potential castmates and Drew’s meticulous with his details, knows what he wants seen and how it should be seen and how the Titans come together and the way he explains it all, all the more he wants to do it. Seems so exciting and new and scary but he can’t explain why he is so drawn to it.

It’s as good as his when they finish and part, but. Not quite ready for it, just yet.

He does a reading a few days after for Drew, Jonathan Nolan, and fucking Christopher Nolan, who’s producing, and Niall wants to die a bit, when he meets him.

He reads the first few lines Robin says, adjusting his voice and his accent and his general demeanor, doesn’t know how or why, but it had felt right, and he sails through the pages while Drew fills in for Batman, and he sees the reluctant, resigned look on the Nolan brothers’ faces change, and lighten.

“Sorry for doubting you,” Christopher apologizes after, shaking his hand. “You’re the right man.”

Niall wants to die again, for a whole other reason. Can’t quite believe that any of this was happening, and he really doesn’t know what he’s going to do, following this. 

.

“Tah, Nialler,” Louis thanks him as he hands him a beer, and he leans back in the lounge chair next to the backyard pool. Liam had been watching the steaks for him as he went in to get the drinks, and he’s still familiarizing himself with the grill, with the new place. Figures he’ll be here for a while, if he does end up taking up the role.

For now, though. Just a lads dinner in, a pint or two and plenty of beef. He’d invited all of them, but Harry hadn’t replied, only for Niall to find out he wasn’t even in Los Angeles, for once. Was in New York, he’d discovered through Jimmy Fallon’s Twitter, saying he was having Harry over to  _ ‘debut a new song!’  _ and he’d stopped trying to call. Figures Jeff had been the one who tweeted, through Harry’s account, that he’d be starting a small theater tour across Europe and North America, and some places in Asia. No mention of Japan, though. Niall had always been the most popular there, so.

Now, though. Just the three of them, catching up in LA. If it comes to the point where he can mention the whole becoming a fictional superhero issue, well. A bridge to cross when he gets there. 

“I think this is good,” Liam says, stepping aside willingly once Niall hands him a bottle and he gives him back the tongs.

Niall prods the beef, then shakes his head, saying, “One more minute maybe. Too rare.”

“Ay, the promise of a good Nialler steak, cold beer, and my boys. Don’t need much more at the mo,” Louis says, and he tilts his head back, staring up at the stars. “Not much the sky here can do for me, though.”

“It’s well enough,” Liam says, looking up as well, before taking a seat on the lounge chair next to Louis’. “How’s Freddie?”

“He’s asleep,” Niall listens to him as he’s wrapping up the steaks in foil to rest. Trick he learned from Nigella. When he speaks, fondness seeps into his every word, and it’s nice to listen to. “Right as I was leaving. Bri’s doing so great. Guess I’m lucky that she’s been so open about everything. Danielle too.”

“She’s lovely,” Niall says, remembers how sweet and surprisingly quiet she’d been when they’d been introduced. Then he remembers meeting Freddie, and how much Brianna seemed to glow. “They both are.”

“Yeah, lucked out, for fucking sure,” Lou says, relaxed and looking more at peace than he has in such a long time. “Work’s doing well too. Girls are about to be launched, so. Yeah, been doing well.”

“You look it,” Liam tells him, pulls on the end bit of his fringe, hilariously long. “Need a bit of a cut, though-”

“Fuck you, I’ve got great hair,” Louis says, though everyone disagrees, and he’s saying then, “Well, what about you, Payno? You been alright? Didn’t get a chance to really ask last time. Niall had a diva moment, for once.”

“It’s a miracle,” Niall says, carrying over the tray of wrapped up steaks and the cutlery, sets it down on the table. “Once in a blue moon.”

“Tah, Niall,” he says again as his steak is unfoiled and it’s steaming, and he gets right to carvin it up into huge chunks. “Got any steak sauce?”

“Cheryl’s gonna start touring soon. I’m thinking of maybe going with her for a bit, work on some material on the road,” Liam answers his earlier question as he hands him the bottle of A1 Niall gestures to. “Just for a bit, until. Until everything’s sorted.”

“Threw us a real curve ball, didn’t he?” Louis remarks, and he doesn’t sound sad or angry, or anything. Just a fact he states, more interested with the perfect rareness of his beef. “Well. Don’t know if I’ll be going to any of those shows. Maybe just look it up on Youtube? Don’t want anyone to overreact.”

Niall frowns, because he’d watched their public friendship deteriorate. Had an unexpected effect on their personal friendship as well, and it never fails to make him disappointed, that they have the hardest time showing any sort of signs of fondness, even when no one’s looking.

“Maybe we could work on a few tunes, then?” Liam’s saying, and they’re falling back into old rhythms. It’s surprisingly comforting. “When we’re in the same places. Work around that movie you’re doing, yeah?”

“Oi, cut the shit,” Lou scoffs, “Don’t even know where that one report came from. I’m doing too much shit to be acting.”

“Think you’d do pretty well,” Liam says, isn’t lost on either of them that he’s teasing, so Niall just watches for a bit as Louis fork fights with Liam, and it would be a perfect segue, for him to just ease it into the conversation, but of course that's when his chest gets tight with worry and his brain starts to doubt him. 

He shouldn't have to be nervous. They're his brothers, and it's not like he couldn't talk to him before. Just. Feels like he's pulling a Harry. It's a mean, awful thought, but it was a shitty thing, he did. Wonders of what he's doing is shitty, too.

“Niall?” Liam prods, and he realizes he'd been quiet, unmoving with his steak just resting forever in the plate in front of him.

“Sorry, lads, go on,” he says, but that's never worked. Definitely won't now. 

“Ay, can't front with us,” Louis taps Niall's head once affectionately, and he says, “Just tell us. Was it something we said? Brought us here and dined us for a reason?”

“No, just. Really wanted to see you boys,” he says, and it is true. Most of it. “Really.”

He fools no one. “Nialler, just say it,” Liam tells him, and they're waiting. 

Niall can't find it in himself to speak, and spends about a minute just wringing his hands and hoping here not all that clammy, and Louis sighs. Says, “Is this about that meeting you had with that director bloke the other day?”

Niall states at him, completely not expecting that. “How-”

“Twitter, it's always Twitter,” Louis says, waves it off. Liam doesn't look surprised in the least either, so it's obvious to Niall that he's aware as well. “What was it for, then?”

“Um,” he tries, swallows. Doesn't know why he's so nervous about this. “For a, um. For a film. He wants me in his movie.”

“Well, I got that much,” Louis says, still indifferent and much more concerned with cutting up his food. “What movie, then?”

“Uh, I,” he tries. Breathes hard, steeling himself, and says, “Robin.”

They pause. “Robin...Hood?” Liam guesses.

“Oh, no, not quite,” he says, and he doesn’t get why he’s shitting it. “Like. Batman’s Robin? But not for a Batman movie. Something else.”

They pause again and he watches Louis straighten up slightly in his chair, watches him think. “Robin. The Boy Wonder?”

“You know what, it’s fine, I’m not taking it,” he laughs, chuckles and waving it off though he feels his heart sink. “Was stupid of them for even thinking of me, I’m shit at the Hollywood stuff. They can find someone else-”

“And why would you do that?” Liam says, eyes widening.

“Niall’s having a ‘moment,’” Louis explains, and he’s putting down his knife and fork. Looks up at him, and his smile is small but true. “Thinks he can’t do it, or something. He's doubting himself again. Pretty sure he can do it, though.”

“‘He’ is right here,” he huffs, but his chest begins to feel all that much lighter, and Louis chuckles, leans forward to grab behind Niall’s neck, and brings his head down to let their foreheads touch.

“I think that director made a good choice,” he says simply, patting his cheek once. “Think he’d be pretty sick as Robin.”

“And you’ll meet Ben Affleck,” Liam says, slightly awed, “and get a real suit - red, green and yellow, though. That’s, um. Nice.”

“And you know full well I’ll look great in it,” he says, and he’s laughing, a bit relieved. He’s still not quite out of the woods yet, though, and he asks nervously, “So, you two, you’re not mad?”

“Why would we be?” Liam asks, but Louis is faster, can read the looks on his face, and he smiles quietly at him.

“We all didn’t expect what happened to happen, Nialler,” he says, shrugging a bit. “We all have to make our own plans, now. I’m not mad at you for getting a start on moving on. We all have to.”

“Not moving on,” he shakes his head, because he’s not. “Not from you lot. Just, just a side trip.”

“Sick side trip, then,” he says, beaming, and he says, “So. Tell us about your movie, then.”

And that was that.

.

“Thought they were going to announce it next week, Ciara,” he says into his phone, and his head is aching a bit, but he can’t stop smiling, for some reason. His Twitter’s been going off non stop for hours, now, and he’d been getting calls and emails and his head is aching, but it’s all quite fun, he can admit.

_ “It was supposed to be next week,”  _ she replies, and he can hear the rapid clicking of a keyboard on her side of the line. Must be doing some damage control.  _ “We were told next week, Warner Brothers just swiped the rug out from under us.” _

“Well, I don’t want anyone thinking I’m quitting the band, that’s all,” he says, and he goes over the Vanity Fair article again on his iPad screen.

**_Niall Horan: The Actual Boy Wonder_ **

**_‘Unexpected, but clear choice.’_ **

_ By Katey Rich _

_ Warner Brothers Studios and DC, in the tradition of casting actors completely out of left field, announced today that a previously shelved project,  _ **_The Teen Titans_ ** _ , would in fact be moving forward, and not only that, would be featuring the first feature film role of  _ **_Niall Horan_ ** _ , more known as the Irish component of  _ **_One Direction_ ** _. _

_ Horan will be playing the role of Dick Grayson, otherwise known as Batman’s first Robin, the Caped Crusader’s high-flying acrobatic partner in crime who’d been adopted by Bruce Wayne after Grayson had watched his parents fall to their deaths during a performance for the circus he had grown up in.  _

_ Arguably the most known of the young crime fighting group, he will be leading a cast including  _ **_Dylan O’Brien_ ** _ of  _ **_‘The Maze Runner’_ ** _ film series, who will be taking up the mantle of Beast Boy, a green-skinned superhero who’d accidentally developed the ability to transform into any animal after an attempt to save his life from a rare disease,  _ **_John Boyega_ ** _ of the new  _ **_‘Star Wars’_ ** _ films, who will be playing Cyborg (not to be confused with  _ **_Ray Fisher’s_ ** _ version of the character who will appear in the upcoming  _ **_‘Justice League’_ ** _ ), a superhero whose body and some parts of his face had been replaced with metallic implants, outfitted by his father to save his life after being mutilated by a monster, and two-time Academy Award nominee  _ **_Saoirse Ronan_ ** _ , who will be playing Raven, an empath who can teleport and control her ‘soul self,’ amongst other things, the daughter of DC supervillain Trigon, also slated to appear in the film, a demon of inter-dimensional origin, and a human mother.  _

_ Another member of the group who will be a major part of the film is Starfire, a princess of a fictional planet with the ability to fly at supersonic speeds and constantly absorb ultraviolet radiation, which in turn allows her to release blasts of pure energy, is yet to be casted. The studio remains mum on whether or not key players in Robin’s backstory prior to his involvement with the Titans, such as Batman, Harvey Dent (more known as ‘Two-Face’) will be appearing in the film.  _

_ Horan’s casting comes as a shock to many comic fans, who have been waiting for news on the project since original plans for the Titans to be translated to a television series were dissolved early this year. With more experienced young actors in the cast, the inclusion of the singer as the known leader of the group is questioned by many who are familiar with the characters. But Warner Bros. and DC have stated that they are optimistic and sure of their choice and the capabilities of Horan. _

_“As we were writing the script, we were thinking of actors who were quietly very intelligent, with heart and a brand of earnestness that is identifiable with Dick,” director, writer and executive producer_ ** _Drew Goddard_** _, of_ ** _‘The Martian’_** _and_ ** _‘Cloverfield’_** _fame,_ _explains. “It might seem very strange to cast a first-time actor in such a complex role, but Niall had that Robin sense of self, a very rare kind of quality that just couldn’t be found with anyone else who had read for the role. When he came in to read for it,_ ** _Chris_** _[_ ** _topher Nolan_** _, of the_ ** _‘The Dark Knight’_** _trilogy, producer of the new project] told me, ‘That’s him. That’s our boy.’ He was so unexpected, but the clear choice.”_

_ With the film currently in pre-production and beginning principal photography in May, concluding in December, it raises concern over Horan’s One Direction duties, whether those will be put on hold, causing an extension to a promised hiatus of at least eighteen months, or if the band will continue at all. He is not the first actor to come out of the group, with fellow member  _ **_Harry Styles_ ** _ previously having worked with Nolan in the war drama  _ **_‘Dunkirk’_ ** _ with  _ **_Kenneth Branagh_ ** _ ,  _ **_Mark Rylance_ ** _ and _ **_Tom Hardy_ ** _. _

_ ‘DC’s The Teen Titans’ is slated for a mid-2018 release. _

“Ay, the comments are brutal, it’s hilarious,” Niall muses over the phone, scrolling over the comments of  _ ‘holy shit why him why why why,’ ‘could barely handle Batfleck and British Superman, why is DC out to ruin every character they have,’ ‘so is Robin going to sing? This going to be a musical? (not a good one either),’  _ and the abundant, but his absolute favorite,  _ ‘NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.’  _ He clicks the thumbs up sign on every one of them.

_ “Guess they were too excited that you agreed,”  _ she tuts, and he hears her muttering on her other phone, says some official sounding shit.  _ “Christ. They were supposed to release the news next week, with a statement from you. Could sue them for this.” _

“That sounds exhausting,” he frowns, and he braves Twitter for a moment, then exiting almost immediately after when the first thing he sees is the trending topic,  _ ‘NIALL IN TIGHTS.’  _ “Hmm. I don't know. This is a lot better than I was expecting. Mixed bag. That's not so bad, for now.”

_ “They still shouldn't have done this,”  _ she says, tutting.  _ “Well. I guess the best thing for you to do now is confirm it. Simple, just a tweet or something. Make it fun.” _

“Ay, maybe I should crop my face onto one of these pictures they're tweeting at me,” he says, scrolls through the many mentions he has, sees that plenty of the fans had done that for him already. Not very creative of him, then, but. “Oohhhh, what if I record a video, singing the Batman theme, face swap with Batfleck, put it on my Snap.”

_ “The tweet will do, Niall,”  _ she deadpans.  _ “So, I called up Mark like you asked, and he's bringing in another trainer for the flexibility and acrobatic shit. He said he can't wait to buff you up.” _

“Gonna get my guns back,” he says, tries flexing his arms though no one’s looking. “And the dialect and acting coaches?”

_ “We’re good,”  _ she replies, just as Niall watches the joint video messages Louis and Liam had sent, yelling and laughing and singing the theme of the cartoon Teen Titans, with the Japanese words and everything. Louis won’t stop taking the piss and reads Drew’s quotes from the article out loud. Harry had sent a solitary text early on, shortly after the news had been released, saying a simple,  _ ‘Congratulations. You’d look great in a super suit. About time the world saw you the way I do.’  _ Still no apology from either of them.

“I hope they don’t make my suit red and green and yellow,” he muses out loud as he stares at one photo, and he knows that the first costume was based on Robin Hood, but it’s a bit much. “Don’t want to seem like a diva, or anything. Just, just a concern.”

_ “I wouldn’t worry, seems like those films are devoid of color,”  _ she says snappily, and she’s still typing away on the other side.  _ “Right. Better get training, then.” _

“I’m just about to take a run,” he says, not a complete lie, he’s got his workout clothes on and everything. He just doesn’t want to get up. 

_ “Go do that, then,”  _ she says,  _ “I’ll see you in a few months. Go get fit.” _

“Already am,” he teases, and she snorts before he hangs up the phone. He sighs, stares at his iPad screen one more time, then exits out of everything before shutting it down.

As he’s running down the pavement later on, all he allows himself to think about is getting a dog, so that this part won’t be so bad as it is now. 

.

“Hello,” he beams as he opens the door, and Ciara stares at him, very much unimpressed, luggage strewn about behind her and sunglasses pushed up to her head. “Belated Valentines.”

“Shut it, tea please,” she says, then letting out a yelp when Ace bounds up to her, and he's not exactly a small dog, so she almost topples over. He grabs her bags immediately as she goes in, watching in amusement as she tries to calm the dog down. 

“Ace,” he calls out, dropping to his knees, and Ace follows his voice immediately, running over to him and standing on his hind legs to lay his front legs on his shoulders. He ruffles up the German Shepherd’s fur around the neck, and clamps the leash on his collar for their daily jog. He gets a lick across his face for his efforts, and he chuckles.

“Ace?” she says warily, watching them.

“‘Ace the Bat-Hound,’” he explains, brings her bags to the guest room quickly before going back out. “Batman’s German Shepherd sidekick.”

“O-okay,” she murmurs, and steps back a bit when Ace goes over to her general direction, only to go out the back door and to the yard. “I - arghh, I know LA’s not all that hot in the great climate scale of the world, but this is ridiculous, I’m sweating - holy  _ shit,  _ is that you, Horan?”

“Hmm? Oh,” he flushes, and all he’d done was take off his sweatshirt, in his muscle shirt and tights to do some running. “It’s not much-”

“You did it, you actually got fit, real quickly, too,” she says, comes closer and prods at the hard muscle of his arm, poking along the widened breadth of his shoulders. 

He shrugs, but he still turns pink. He had trained all of December, January, and beyond. He misses his burgers and steaks and everything, but Mark stares him down every time, and it’s hard to not cheat on his meals, but he does it, Dane DeHaan style. He’d gotten fitter and more muscled and it was slow, but it had shown, eventually. Can’t get too buff, as Drew had just wanted  _ ‘lean and defined muscle, think acrobat,’  _ but he’d gotten more flexible, can jump higher and stretch farther and the tricks and shit still scare him a bit, but in time.

“Do the accent,” she says, poking at his stomach, which is hard and muscled now, too, and she makes a strangled noise and mutters about something being unfair, and just pokes him harder. 

“Ay, shitting fuck, make your own tea,” he says, but he says it in his Dick Grayson voice, and she yells, shakes him about. 

He’s been having dialect and acting sessions daily, improving the accent so it doesn’t come out comic and emphasized, the way most of his impressions come out, as it had turned out, but rather, subtle and natural. Just the slightest, slightest hint of a Romanian, gypsy tone to his voice, barely there, but he and Drew know that the hardcore fans will appreciate the nod to Dick’s actual heritage, something ignored a lot in adaptations.

“Fuck, man, it’s actually happening,” she says, “first thing I actually make you do and it’s actually happening.”

“Well, something’s happening,” he switches to his Robin voice, deeper and grittier just the slightest bit, and she makes another noise akin to dying.

“Fucking hell,” she mutters, and she bangs around the kitchen incessantly. “Everything’s happening - where is your bloody kettle?”

He goes over to get the water boiling wordlessly, and she keeps talking, saying stuff about how _ “Warner Brothers and DC know how to stir shit up”  _ and that _ “LA is so full of shit, don’t know why you people love it here so much,” _ and she brings out her phone at one point and reads an article, just came out a few hours ago, and it’s not like he wasn’t aware. He’d known for weeks, but now it’s all public and official. 

_ “‘Barbara Palvin Joins Rumored Ex Niall Horan in Superhero Flick,’”  _ she reads, frowning. “Like, is that the title? Really?”

He shrugs, pouring out a cup for her and laying out the different teas he has for her to choose from. She points at the Earl Grey, and he sets to work as she goes on,  _ “‘Model Barbara Palvin, one of Victoria’s Secret most prized regulars of recent years,’  _ really, are they for fucking real,  _ ‘is officially joining the cast of Drew Goddard’s Teen Titans film. She’ll be playing Starfire, an alien princess from the fictional planet Tamaran with powers of flight and energy blasts, among other things. She’ll be co-starring with alleged ex-boyfriend, Niall Horan, who was announced late last year to be taking the famed role of Robin.’  _ ‘Famed,’ christ, don't know if you can call it that if the only other person to have actually played him onscreen was Chris O’Donnell. Gordon-Levitt don't count.”

“Not all that bad,” he shrugs, pushing the tea and the containers of sugar and cream for her to mix.

_ “‘Starfire and Robin were famously engaged in the comic series’ canonical universe, with an even more famous falling out,’  _ these people, I swear, stirring shit.  _ ‘With these two ex-lovers,’  _ motherfucker,  _ ‘ex-lovers working together, it seems that the art is imitating life, but only time will tell if they will have a happier ending.’  _ Fucking hell, haven’t even started filming and they’re already playing up the romance between you two.”

“Barbara and I are fine,” he tells her, and they are. He and the rest of the Titans had already met up and had their chemistry meet, been instructed to get to know one another and everything. It’s not like the two of them were ever awkward, after. They’d always been fine, and they definitely are now. 

Niall doesn’t know how they all work together, and on paper, he knows they shouldn’t, what with an American, a Brit, a Hungarian and two Irish folk. But they do. John is a party, never seems to run out of energy, and Dylan is sweet and charming and endearingly down-to-earth. Barbara, he knows, and now the rest of them do, is humble and amazing and you wouldn’t know it, not with those eyes, but adorable to her core. Saoirse is Irish, and it’s incentive enough for him to like her, but she loves her tea and her accent is so strong, so much stronger than Niall’s, and she’s witty and is scared of playing games with Americans because they’re so competitive and she and him have a bond immediately, and she’s unfailingly kind. 

It was the wildest, funnest camp out he’d had in awhile. Last one he remembers was with the boys a few years back, the memory too far gone for his liking.

“Well, they certainly hope you are,” she snorts, puts so much sugar in her tea, the way he desperately wants to but won't, not until December at least. “Got that table read in a few hours, then?”

And he does. Goes to the studios with Ciara after his run and workout and shower, and he's so fucking nervous, and he's worked hard but he doesn't know what the fuck is going to happen. Writers are there, producers and some of the crew and the cast. The Nolans, Drew, several people he needs to impress. 

John, Dylan, Saoirse, and Barbara come in a bit later, and the five of them try to get psyched up, but he knows he's not the only one who’s nervous.

“Never really did a big big movie before,” Saoirse says, shaking herself a bit.

“Never did a movie, period,” he deadpans, and she snorts at him. 

“Does it count if I hardly spoke in mine?” Barbara wonders, and he hugs her because he can, they're at that point, and he'd like a bit of comfort at the moment. 

John is slightly more poised, how could he not, with all the work he'd already done in Star Wars. Dylan is more relaxed as well, though not by much. Must be a wonder to have franchises already under your belt. 

They're told to move around a bit before they begin, to relax them all or something, and Niall chokes on his spit when Drew approaches him, two very recognizable people walking up along with him. 

“Niall, this is Ben,” he introduces them, and Ben Affleck is actually really handsome up close. He smiles, shakes hands with him, and his jaw is unfairly perfect. 

“Nice to meet you,” he says, “Boy Wonder to my Dark Knight.”

He really wants to vomit, or curse, but he says instead, “Honored, really. I hope I'm up to snuff.”

“Don't doubt it,” he says, still smiling, and it looks genuine enough. 

He doesn't need to introduce himself, but Leonardo DiCaprio leans forward anyway, says with a similar smile on his face, “Leo, nice to meet you. I'm Two-Face.”

So, he's going to be beat up on screen by the Great Gatsby. He swallows, intimated a millionfold, says, “Really great to meet you as well.”

“Leo's not going to be with us for every long, neither is Ben. Only have two weeks with them,” Drew explains to him privately later on, “They're here to film just with you.”

“Doing a really shit job of relaxing me, mate,” he mutters, and Drew chuckles. 

Last straw was when Liam Neeson comes in, and it's so completely obvious that he’s going to be the antagonist to their group. John can't quite resist saying how  _ “Qui-Gon is now Trigon,”  _ and everyone snorts into their coffees, not expecting the rhyme. 

And the read’s under way. The way the script is written, there are five different origins, or in the least, backgrounds as to why the Titans come together. Robin’s is a tragedy, wherein his outlook in being a hero is marred when he fails to save someone, and is beaten and tortured by Two-Face as Batman watches, helpless and tied, leading to a time when Dick had been sidelined from the crime fighting. Deep shit. It’s not lost on anyone that Robin will be the draw for many casual filmgoers, being the most known out of the five heroes. It needs to be good, so Niall does his best. 

And he doesn’t know how well he does, really, but he catches the looks that some of the people around the table give him as he says his lines, his voice naturally toning itself and he wants to think that he does okay enough. The small, surprised smiles they give him are signs of it, but he doesn’t think too much of it.

Leonardo is amazing, of course, evil and sinister and scarred as Harvey Dent, taunting him and he feels lashed, just through his words. Ben is Batman, Bruce Wayne through and through, and it’s infinitely weird fighting and arguing with him, tense and his chest gets all tight, stupidly feels everything. Just a fucking table read.

Meets Raven when he’s out on a mission without the Bat, technically not allowed to fight, but still, and she’s trying desperately to recruit anyone she can so that her demonic fucked up father Trigon can be defeated, meets the rest of them. Saoirse is amazingly fun, effortlessly good at what she does. They try to get on as a supergroup, the five of them working together and he doesn’t hide his admiration for everyone, and eventually, they win, as they do. No one dies, as an added bonus. He feels drained by the end of it, but slightly relieved. 

“Can’t wait to work with you,” Leo’s shaking his hand later on in the hustle of everyone congratulating one another, a moment of calm before principal photography and the real hard work begins, his smile genuine and honest on his face, and it sounds sincere. Niall’s bricking it. “Did I hear a bit of Romani in your accent?”

“Dick Grayson’s family was from Romania,” he answers dumbly, tries not to pull a Liam as he desperately keeps himself together and not be a lemon. 

“Good choice,” he says, smiling wider. “You’re doing the work. That’s amazing, that you’re actually working for it. Not a lot of people would, but it just shows how much you want it.”

“I do, thank you,” he says, and he dies again inside, can’t believe this is the life he’s living at the moment. Ben offers him a similar greeting, many more compliments, and John and the others crowd around him and they jump around a bit, because this part’s done. Off to the rest of this amazing side trip.

“Well, shit,” Ciara tells him as he drives them back to his place after grabbing a few burgers from In-N-Out, because fuck it, he hasn’t had a cheat day in three months, he’s splurging. “You’re really fucking good. Like, I wasn’t expecting you to be shitty or anything. But you held your own against two of the world’s most handsome men.”

“Thank you for not doubting me,” he says, “like, I mean that. I swear I’m not being sarcastic.”

“Thanks for hiring me, you tit,” she says, feet up on the dashboard, and normally Niall would push them down himself, but he lets it slide, this once. It’s been a good day. 

.

Few months later, they begin filming. Call sheet description for the scene sequence to be filmed is  _ ‘The day that changed everything.’  _ It’s horrendously appropriate.

His hair is longer and he’s dyed it black, gelled loosely off to the side, and he’s suiting up. The costume is lighter than it looks, mostly a thick spandex-like material and reinforced detailing on the surface, adding texture and depth. It’s mostly red, almost a deep maroon, with deep gold accents on the buttons and the ‘R’ on his left breast. The black trimming they’d given the suit accents his newly-acquired muscles much too well, and the gloves have these sick winged fins, and he’s even got a fancy stick, sturdy and made of metal and he’s had to train to learn how to use it too. And when he clasps the cape around his neck, the flowy black material of the standing collar hugging his throat snugly, he gets the slightest bit emotional, and heightens his nerves all the more.

_ “This is more Tim Drake than Dick Grayson,”  _ he had said during the first fittings for the costumes. He’d done his research, and it lacks the green and the general flashiness Dick had a flair for.

_ “I hate the short-sleeved suits, this is better,”  _ was Drew’s shrugged explanation for the costume choice, and Niall didn’t care all that much, anyway. 

It’s a sick outfit, and when they fit the eye mask on his face, cat-eyed and winged upwards at the ends and molded especially to fit his face perfectly, he feels like a whole other person.

They don’t have much time with Leonardo and Ben, the window of time when they’d both been available so narrow, pushed the torture and fight scenes and the screaming matches between Dick and Bruce to the first few weeks of filming, so there is a slight bit of tension in the air, the need to get it right the first time around so they wouldn’t waste those two weeks.

“Looking good,” Drew says, and there are crew members everywhere, Andrew and Mike and Michael on different cameras and Mel and Sal on some of the lights and Becca and Heath running around and getting everyone whatever they need and he’s trying to get everyone’s names, as early as now. Had some coffee with them when he’d arrived, and he knows everyone’s nervous, starting off such a big film with such a big first scene to film, but he’d done his best to take the edge off of everyone’s shoulders though not quite enough to get it off of his own.

Ben comes in a minute later, suited up in his Batsuit, and Niall can’t stop internally pinching himself, but this is work. Tries to remember the rehearsals they’d had the other day, the good feeling in his gut, the similar looks on everyone else’s faces when they’d called it a day. They all knew this was going to be special.

Jon plays the D.A. that Robin tries to save, freeing him from a noose, only for Two-Face to reveal another trap which causes him to fall to the water underneath the ground he’d landed safely on and he drowns. He’s easy, laughing and Niall is nervous enough, but he does his best to keep up with his springy attitude. Is starting to wonder if not asking for the stunt double was a mistake, but he trained for this shit, in for a penny.

Leo comes in, and Niall fights not to gasp. The left side of his face is completely marred, tinged blue from feigned decay or something, eyeball almost completely exposed and hair white and wild, more faithful to the comic version. Niall whimpers internally for the state of his face.

Drew’s direction is simple. Scene begins with Robin stealthing his way to where Batman and the D.A. are held hostage by Two-Face. Be loose, serious but on this side of confident. Cut the rope connected to the noose around the D.A.’s neck by throwing the boomerang, Nick and the other effects guys will help him along, and rope is cut, he falls to the ground, seemingly saved. Act relieved, but Leo should grin at this point, evil kind, set the second trap. He falls to the water and Robin should act shocked for the briefest moment, then jump in to save him, but he's unable to, helplessly made to watch the man drown.

Then Two-Face gets his hands on him, and beats him up, tortures him physically and taunting the Bat above them, who's yelling and fighting to get out of his bonds, unable to help for several moments, until he manages to free himself and beat Dent, bring a heavily injured Dick out of the scene to escape. 

It's difficult to get into the character, but Niall just slips into it as best as he can. Smiles and beams turn to looks of horror and fear soon enough, and cries of pain and the inability to help himself, as real as he can make them.

They do it over, and over, from every angle and he works so much harder than he’s used to. Gets his voice hoarse as he lets Leo fake punch and fake hit him, Ben’s screaming ringing in his ears. Gets the red corn syrup concoction in his face, in his mouth to spit out later on, and cuts are drawn on his skin along the way. 

First day, first scene just more than halfway shot, the rest saved for tomorrow. He's drained and tired by the end of it. He's so completely out of his element, his accent had slipped too many times to count, he'd missed cues and though his stamina and agility are better now, he's still stiff, had still messed up takes and he’s not feeling as hopeful as he’d been just that morning. 

But when everyone shakes his hand at the end of the day, it confuses him. When Leonardo, still in full makeup and not done for the day unlike him, uses his break to talk to him and commend him, he thinks he's just being nice because it's his first time, and he's just that nice a guy. When Ben, just having changed out of the Batsuit, goes over to him and says he can't wait for the next day, when they’re scheduled to finish this scene and film another, where they'll be screaming at one another, Niall, in a far fetched thought, assumes it's because he can't wait to take his frustration out on him. 

Drew tells him he did really well just before he'd gone home for the day, and that he'd set the bar high for himself. He has a very hard time trying to believe it, so he chooses not to. Always room for improvement, in any case.

It's when Sal and and Andrew, as he waves as he passes by them to leave the set, say to him in the honest way their New York roots taught them, “Didn't know you could be that deep, kid.”

He pauses, and looks at them, a bit confused. “Sorry, I don't follow.”

“We both have daughters, we weren't unfamiliar with who you were, going into this,” Andrew tells him. They'd all talked earlier as the day had went on, and Niall knows this already. 

“So, we were expecting nothing from you,” Sal says frankly. Niall blacks out for the quickest moment. “So, I think we need to apologize.”

“No need, I, umm, today showed that your opinions aren't really unfounded,” Niall says, shrugging though he feels a bit down.

They stare at him for a moment, and Sal says, “You think that was bad?”

“It was,” he says, confused. 

“No, it really wasn't,” Andrew says. “Been doing this for longer than you've been alive. That wasn't bad.”

Niall blinks, and blinks again when he finds that he has nothing to say. “But-”

“Even without considering that this is your first time acting and everything, that wasn't at all bad,” Sal says, and Niall swallows his heart down. “We've seen much worse.”

“I hate that I’m about to say this, because I really don’t know much about acting,” Andrew says, “but it isn’t all about the technical shit all the time. You’re good, got a lot of this,” he says, jabs at his chest, maybe a little harder than what Niall was expecting, but it does the trick. “You’re doing good. We see now why you were picked.”

He blinks, swallows, and shakes hands with them quietly before he leaves.

.

“Hey, great first day,” Ciara had left earlier, maybe while in the midst of doing the Bat-rescue sequence, though Niall’s not sure. “I called Robert, he said you were doing great. Accent and emotions on point, or something, he said.”

He gives her a small smile, says, “I’ll be going up, then.”

“Niall?” she watches him stalk up the stairs, eyes going wide in surprise at his lack of energy, “What - they said you were good. Like, don’t shit on yourself-”

“I’m not shitting,” he says, though he’s starting to think that he might be, actually. “I don’t know, this is all so weird, not used to this kind of work.”

“They gave me feedback, you know,” she says, “they’re real pleased with you, like. They initially planned to film this scene for at least four days, to, um. Accommodate more takes and shit, but you were so efficient that they were able to cut down shooting time by half - I’m not all too sure what most of that means, but I’m sure they weren’t unhappy with today.”

“I messed up,” he says, letting his voice sound hard for the first time since. “Like, a lot.”

“Niall-”

“Have an early call time tomorrow, good night,” he says, leaves before she can say anything and he locks the door to his room as soon as he gets in.

He sighs, and Ace’s ears perk up when he steps into the room properly. Lays down on the bed and he jumps in next to him without prompt, resting his head on his chest and curling up next to him.

He scratches his head, behind his ears, and can feel the satisfied rumble vibrating in his throat on his skin. He sighs again, for the nth time today, and he feels a little pathetic. Feels like everyone’s just trying to be nice to him to not hurt his feelings and he doesn’t know why he took the job anymore and he thought he could do it, maybe. Hired the best acting coach and dialect coach and trained so hard. 

He doesn’t know why he does it, particularly, but he’s dialling Harry’s number on his phone before he can think it through, and calls him. Doesn’t know where in the world he is at the moment, the last he’d seen of him hadn’t even been in person. He didn’t go to any of the Dunkirk premieres, hadn’t been invited and he understood why, but it didn’t stop him from being hurt. He’d watched it, though. How couldn’t he, and Harry was brilliant. He knew he’d be brilliant, and he’d told him so then, but now. He’d settled for a simple phone call to congratulate him, and Harry had been surprised to hear from him, but he sounded happy that he’d reached out, even just for that. Right now, though, he hopes he doesn’t answer for a reason he can’t really pinpoint.

He does, with a soft, surprised,  _ “Ni. Hello.” _

“Haz,” he gets a grip on himself, “Hi. How are you?”

_ “I’m good, just finished a show, I’m in Madrid,”  _ he replies, and Niall can picture him, though he doesn’t want to. Sweat dried up on his skin, in need of a shower once he gets back to the hotel, hair tied up in a bun for the trip back and wearing soft clothes for comfort, sat in the back of the van and tapping away on his phone as security and everyone chatters about around him, just him. 

“Good crowd, then?”

_ “Yeah, they were good, Knew all the words,”  _ he tells him, and Niall smiles a bit, though he can’t say the same. He’d heard his stuff, of course. He loved it, sounded just like Harry, the way his brain flowed and translated to notes. It was so unapologetically him, and it was good, but he didn’t listen to it beyond that first time.

“That's great,” he says instead, and Ace cuddles him, jumping a bit and nosing his neck. Niall needs the comfort. “I, umm. I started filming today.”

_ “Oh, that's good,”  _ Harry says.  _ “Must have been hard.” _

“It was,” he says, and he had a feeling Harry would have known how he really felt. Is the only other one who'd actually made a film. “It really was. I didn't know what I was doing for most of it.”

_ “I'm sure you did amazing,”  _ he says. 

“I'm not too sure,” Niall tells him honestly. Can't quite ever lie with Harry, even if they're not exactly on the best of terms. “It's just. I don't know, not quite used to this kind of thing.”

Harry stays silent for a moment, but it's not unwelcome. Ace whines, licks Niall across the face. Niall rubs at his belly, and Harry says then,  _ “Do you think you did badly? Did they say anything to you, or-” _

“They were nice and everything,” he says, and Ace whines again, as if he feels his cuddles weren’t enough to comfort him and he’s disappointed with himself. Niall pulls him closer, tells Harry, “I feel like they treated me nicer than I deserve.”

Harry’s quiet again, then,  _ “You don’t feel like you did okay?” _

“Not really easy to believe all the compliments and everything Leonardo DiCaprio’s telling you when you know you made plenty of mistakes,” he says, unable to keep the snark out of his voice, before he pauses. “And please don’t tell anyone I just told you he’s in the film, that’s not - it’s supposed to be a secret, shit.”

_ “It’s okay, Niall, I won’t tell or anything,”  _ Harry says calmly.  _ “Well, I don’t doubt that you did really well. I’m sure you did.” _

“Hard to believe the good stuff,” he murmurs, and Harry hums on the other side.

_ “Yeah, I understand. But it wouldn’t be bad to listen to it, sometimes,”  _ he tells him.  _ “I mean, not all the time, that’s not good. But, you know. If they really mean it, and I know they did, then it’s okay. And I know you, Ni. You don’t really know how to do anything badly on purpose. I’m sure the praise is deserved.” _

Niall doesn't know why exactly it comforts him, but it just does. Harry might be the last authority on this, but he is the first person Niall trusts to tell him the truth, though that hadn't been the case the last time they saw each other. But, doesn't really change the fact that he'll always listen to him. 

“Did you feel this way?” he asks him, “When you did your movie?”

_ “Yeah, they were nice and everything, but when you know you're shit,”  _ he answers simply. Niall can almost see him shrugging.  _ “But it's alright. I got through.” _

“I'm sure you weren't shit.”

_ “Well, you weren't there,”  _ he says, and he can hear the smile on his voice.  _ “Did how many takes just for me. They were too nice to say that I was awful. It's alright, I know I'm really not all that great. That’s why they had all those other people there, Oscar winners’ showcase.” _

Niall frowns, and he knows Harry doesn’t always think very highly of himself, but he’s sure, really sure, that he wasn’t awful. He’d seen the film, and he really wasn’t. 

_ “You were always the best one with the acting out of all of us, anyway.” _

“Oh, oh no,” he says sheepishly, “I'm not-”

_ “Oh, but you really are,”  _ he says before he can refute it.  _ “Always was the most well-rounded one in the band. So I wasn't all that surprised to hear the news that they cast you. I knew they chose the right person.” _

“Haz,” he says on a bit of an exhale, because Harry, to his credit, doesn't sound the least bit angry or even faintly passive aggressive about not being told that he'd gotten a role, too. Found out with the rest of the world, and Niall prepared himself to receive a berating, a cold shoulder, whatever, but he was completely unsurprised all the same when Harry just simply congratulated him. 

_ “You can tell when people are being nice to you just to let you save face, and when they actually mean the compliments,”  _ he says.  _ “I know you can, all those years and those reporters. You can just tell. I know that you know that these people are being honest with you. Maybe you just needed me to remind you.” _

“Maybe,” he says, and Ace lets out a little whimper. “I don't know.”

_ “Did I help? Even a bit?” _

“I - yeah, yeah. You did,” he says, and he doesn't quite want to admit it, but he doesn't lie, not with Harry.

_ “I'm glad,”  _ Harry says, and truthfully, so is Niall. 

They say their goodbyes, and when Niall hangs up the phone, he feels much lighter than he had before he's made the call. Ace does his hardest to cuddle up closer to him, pretending he's much smaller than he really is and trying to curl up to hide in his pits, but Niall lets him, at least for now. Allows himself to listen, and hear a bit of what he's been told.

.

They finish the scene sequence the next day, and he can feel it, how everyone seems to be in a better mood. He doesn’t quite know how to feel, seeing as they’d expected him to be shit, preparing themselves for a long shoot to accommodate him, but in any case. It’s good, that he’s exceeding expectations, low as they might be.

They move on to another set early in the afternoon, interior shots in the sleek looking Batcave. Chrissy attacks him with some hair wax and makes his hair floppy and loose, Andy brushes on bruises on his face, his neck, and paints on cuts as Drew briefs him and Ben on what he wants and how he’s going to shoot it. And then they’re off.

“You’re out,” Ben tells him as soon as the cameras start rolling, slipping into Bruce easily, seamlessly.

He looks up from where he's seated, hunched over and holding an icepack to his face. He breathes, gets into the headspace, and he says, “What?”

“You're out,” he says again, harder, his jaw tense and he's not out of the Batsuit yet. Doesn't look quite as scary without the cowl on, but his gloved hands clench and his chest puffs out when he breathes, makes him look bigger than he is. “You can't fight after this, and I'm not letting you. You’re out.”

“What - Bruce,” he says, stands and winces as he does so, pretends that his ribs are broken and as if the bones are about to poke out of his body. He swallows, gets a great gulp of air in and he says in his well-practiced Grayson voice, “I can still fight, this is just-”

“No,” he says, voice even firmer and he steps into his space, looks down at him and his eyes are cold, mouth set in a line. Niall breathes, and holds his ground as best as he can. “It’s not that you don't know how to fight, Dick. It’s just that I’m not letting you, not anymore.”

“And why not?” he challenges, and he holds his side as he steps in, breathes deeply as he lets his confusion, anger show on his face. “I'm fine.”

“You won't be,” he says, and Niall has to breathe deeply again, feels himself trembling. 

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“This changes things,” Bruce tells him, his jaw set and his eyes colder still. “You won’t be the same after this. I can’t just let you out there again.”

“You can’t just tell me to stop fighting,” he says, raises his voice slightly and he feels the indignation make his blood boil. He’s finding it hard to keep things separate, but he goes on, “You -  _ christ,  _ Bruce, you’re the one who  _ asked  _ me to join you-”

“A mistake, then,” he says, and Niall blinks rapidly to stave off tears of anger. He hopes Drew doesn't get mad, hopes his shining eyes aren't seen so much in the shots.

He huffs, breathes hard as he looks away from Ben, who goes on to repeat, “You’re out.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” he says, stalks away, but Ben forces him to look at him, grabbing his arm and turning him around. Niall winces and grunts for show at the sudden movement, and he looks up at Ben again, whose expression is white hot with anger and something akin to desperation, for him to understand. 

“This isn’t a request, Dick.”

“I know it’s not. I’m just not listening.”

“Why are you so intent on not listening to me?”

“You’re not my dad, Bruce!” Niall yells, pushes him away and he’s not nearly as strong or big as Ben, but he looks so surprised that he doesn’t fight it, loosens his grip as he’s shoved off. “You can’t tell me what to do. I - I’m not-”

He pauses, like the script says, breathes short, rapid breaths like Drew instructed, and he blinks even faster and looks away as the first tears leak out. He grits his teeth, grabs at his side again  where he's supposedly injured and squeezes hard.

“Dick. I don’t think you quite understand,” he says quietly, and Niall looks at him, and he has to keep telling himself that ‘ _ This is work, this is work.’  _ Can’t quite believe he’s having a row with Ben Affleck, who’s just looking at him, subdued and humbled and somewhat hurt at Dick’s outburst. “I know, I’m not your father. I know that. But, I don’t think you understand just how much I cannot lose you.”

“And you think that this is the way to do that?” he snaps back, and Bruce hangs his head down. “I’m not the Boy Wonder you trained anymore. I can do more.”

“And you’ve proven it, but I can’t see you get hurt anymore, Dick,” he says, and Dick scoffs, but he just goes on to say, “I can’t let you go out there.”

“This is my city too,” he says, his voice hard and he feels all the lights on him, mics hanging overhead and cameras pointed everywhere. He hopes he’s convincing enough. “Just as it is yours. I get to protect it the way you do, you can’t just stop me from helping in any way I can.”

“It’s not up for discussion,” Ben says, turns to walk away, and Niall stares after him, seeing red.

“Bruce! This isn’t fair, and you know it!” he raises his voice as he watches him leave, doors closing behind him, and he’s left alone.

He screams, makes it deep and he wrenches off his cape, snapping the buttons in front of the suit apart with one hard swipe of his hand, and he breathes, harder and deeper still, his face streaked with fake blood and dirt and his tears.

Drew call for a cut, then gets off of his chair and walks immediately up to him. Says shortly, “The crying wasn't in the script.”

“I, I know,” he says in his real voice, scrambles to wipe the tears off, and Andy rushes forward to slap his hands away from the makeup and dabs at his cheeks with a tissue. “Sorry, it just. Came out. Ah, shit, I'm being dramatic-”

“It  _ was  _ a bit dramatic,” he muses, mouth quirked as he thinks it through. 

“I know, it really was, I won't do it again.”

“You shouldn’t have in the first place.”

“I know,” he says, cheeks flaming red. “I’m sorry.”

“Well. Do you think you can do it again?” Drew says, eyebrow cocked. 

Niall blinks at him, trying to hide his surprise at the request, and says lamely. “Um, uh. Probably not.”

“Hmm, I think we'll try for another shot, anyway,” he says, shrugs. “Without the crying.”

“Yeah, um, of course-”

“It wasn’t bad, Niall,” he tells him, as the cameramen and lighting crew are bustling behind them to reset for the next take, Ben coming back in, his cape swishing as he walks. 

“I-”

“I didn’t need the cry, but it wasn’t bad,” Drew says, and Niall can’t read the look on his face. “Didn't know you had it in you. But let's see it as it's written, please.”

“Um, yeah. Sure, sure,” he says, buttons up the suit again and Andy clasps the cape back around his neck as Drew gives him more minor instructions. Go harder on the cape removal, let the words breathe a bit more between phrases, don't be afraid to show the emotion, says that he sees him holding back.

He manages to cry again on the third and fourth takes, after a bit more prodding, and he underestimated how exhausting it was to have to cry all the time in front of a camera.

It's just after nine when they wrap up for the day, and he's more ready for the hand shaking and compliments, which are more abundant now than it had been yesterday. He changes in his trailer, and as he’s leaving the lot to go to the parking garage, he hears, “Hey, Irish.”

Looks around, and Ben is smiling at him, back in normal clothes and bag slung over his shoulder. “Hi.”

“Quite a whirlwind, isn’t it?” he says, and Niall nods. Doesn’t really know how to act around him now that they’re not working, and he’s always friendly, can somehow find himself to be friends with everyone, but doesn’t change the fact that Ben Affleck is still Ben Affleck. It’s intimidating, to say the least. “You’re handling it pretty well, though.”

“Oh, thank you,” he says, surprised and flattered by the comment. “I, um, I do my best.”

“Well, maybe with your day job, it must have been easy to get used to,” he says, and Niall smiles a bit, can’t really help it.

“No, this is much harder for me, but I don’t know,” he shrugs a bit as they walk. “That’s a whole different beast to this. It’s all good, just trying to do what I can.”

“Don’t think I ever really told you, but as new as you are, you’re good at this,” Ben tells him, and Niall just shakes his head, feels himself flushing. “I mean it. Two days in and you’re doing much better than a lot of people expected.”

“How was it for you?” Niall asks him, “With that many people doubting that you could do it, like. How did you do it?”

Ben looks at him as he’s bringing out he’s keys to his car, and he pauses for a moment. Then he just says, “I actually don’t know. There isn’t really a manual or anything. You just do the work, as best as you can, and hope it comes out okay. Prove everyone wrong by working harder and doing better everyday. You started out really strongly, considering what you’ve had to do. Keep that momentum up. You’ll be fine. Maybe even get another day job.”

“What - ah, no,” he flushes again, embarrassed and confusingly pleased with the comment as they find their respective vehicles. “I don’t know about that.”

Ben chuckles, deposits his bag in the backseat of his car. Waves at him as he gets into the front seat, and Niall waves back, watches him drive off. 

He lets out the breath he’d been holding, slumps down and thumps his forehead on the window of his car.

.

Filming goes on the next few weeks. The suit becomes something like a second skin, finds himself being more at home with it everytime he puts it on, and the cameras still make him feel a bit weird, but he’s getting there. 

He and Ben get on much better than he thought they would, and it still blows his mind that they’re kind of mates, but in any case. Was real fun to fight him, actually  _ fight  _ him in choreographed combat in front of the cameras as The Dark Knight and his conflicted Boy Wonder. Shoot lasted three days because of the complexity of the sequence, and if anything, he'd get the chance to say that he beat Batman’s ass. He's not quite so sure about how he'd done, but nevertheless, it would almost surely turn out to be a standout scene. Leonardo had become something of a friend as well, whenever he happens to be on set, and he’d done a few more fight scenes, real action shit that gets his adrenaline on and makes him want to light himself on fire afterwards, because they’d always make him so tired, but it’s all fine. He’s learning as he goes, learns from Ben, Leo, Drew, Andrew, Sal, and everyone else. He still  _ is  _ the newbie here, so he wants to soak up as much as he can. He’s not an actor, by any means, but anything to make his best even better.

The other Titans aren’t due for filming for a few weeks, but every now and then, John, Dylan, Saoirse and Barbara drop in sometimes to see how everything is coming along. Sometimes one at a time, then maybe two of them, three of them. All of them had been there for Leo’s last day, dream sequence wherein he taunts and tortures Dick, and again for Ben’s last day. And it’s not just the four of them who’d come along.

“Ay, Nialler, you’re so fit!” Louis yells as he bangs into his trailer noisily just as he’s finishing dressing up, loosely used term as he’s actually wearing less than what he’d arrived to set with, Liam grinning as he’s following behind him quietly. 

“Oh, there’s no green,” Liam remarks on the top half of his costume hung up on the dresser, to be worn on screen later, sounds almost disappointed. “And you’re bigger than me.”

“He’s bigger than Harry, let’s not kid ourselves,” Louis says as he pokes him everywhere, arms, stomach, shoulders, face, then crotch.

“I’m not, not really. But I could kick his ass,” he says, slapping his hands away as Liam introduces himself to Ciara, who’d just come into the trailer with Ace in tow and immediately looked confused. Lou comes forward to do the same as he’s saying, “How’d you get through security?”

“You don’t want the whole story,” Liam mutters darkly as he bends down to let Ace lick his face, and Niall snorts as he pats his face dry, then pulls off his shirt. “Shit. Niall, you don’t look like you.”

“I think that’s the point,” Niall says, pats at his hair to make sure it’s still in place, and pulls up the spandex to his hips. “Never realized how tight this was.”

“Do you really need to be shirtless?” Ciara asks him, and she’s not blushing or anything, just sounds disgruntled, and Niall laughs inside, knows he definitely hired the right person.

“Director’s orders,” he says, puts on a robe and takes the rest of his costume, ready to go to set.

“How do you see out of this,” Louis is asking, holding up his mask and staring at it intently.

“I’d wondered too,” he shrugs, taking it from him and thumbing over the white covering of the eyeholes. Looks like the one in the comics, where his eyes actually can’t be seen. “But I just can. Real clear, and everything.”

“Huh,” he mutters, then Niall laughs at him as he walks out the trailer, and outside, the entire crew is bustling to get shit done. He greets everyone, and they all greet him back, and the other Titans ram into him from every side and hug him tightly in a death squeeze right when he enters the Batcave set.

_ “‘Come on Niall-een!’” _ John just starts singing, and Saoirse laughs loudly, leaning back to kiss his cheek. He laughs along, completely ignoring the looks on Louis and Liam’s faces, and he greets them, hugs each of them and adds a kiss to either of the girls’ cheeks for added measure, and he introduces them all to each other. Louis and Liam are great with them, especially when John immediately reels them into a conversation about who he thinks they'd be in the DC universe, and Niall knew he'd make them comfortable. Ben walks in in a suit, looking every bit a Wayne, and any previous predictions he'd had about Louis and Liam being disappointed that they'd missed him in his Batsuit disappear as the watches them freeze up a bit as he comes in, and introduces himself to them.

“Such a lemon,” Liam mutters to himself after Ben had left them to talk to Drew, and Niall laughs, and first AD Miles is telling him that they're about to start rolling, so he disrobes, to an immediate reaction that makes him blush.

“You didn’t have this when we were dating,” Barbara says, hands waving in front of his body and not touching, makes him laugh and he pulls her in for a hug, which she returns with a laugh of her own. 

His suit is set up on set, and after the scene brief, they start rolling, and Niall tries to ignore all the added eyes on him as he shoots this last scene with Ben. It’s not very long, but it’s pivotal to Dick’s story.

He’d been the one tasked with the ever present showing off of the muscles that seems to be needed in every superhero movie, and first shot is fully gratuitous, wherein he’s zipping up his bottoms, shirtless, but he doesn’t mind all that much. He reaches then for the protective undershirt and pulls it on, in the midst of slipping his arms through the long sleeves when Ben walks into the shot, says, “Where are you going?”

“Work,” he says simply, is so tempted to look at Lou or Liam’s reactions, but he stays focused. “Don’t worry, I won’t get in your way-”

“Dick,” Ben says, voice firm and he comes closer. “Is this about that demon?”

He stays quiet, puts on the top of his suit and buttons up. Ben goes on, “You can't. You won't just lose. You'd be obliterated.”

“Don't worry, I'm not doing it on my own,” he says lightly as he puts his belt on. “Got a team.”

“That's not a team,” he says, and Dick pauses in his movements. Dramatic flair, and everything. “You can barely stand each other, how are you going to fight together?”

“Well, since you and Clark and Diana and everyone in your grown-up club won't help Raven out, we will,” he says, and Ben makes a soft scoffing noise as he slips on the gloves and glances up at him. “We'll figure the rest out later on.”

“You're going to get hurt,” Ben tells him, tone just short of begging, and he clasps the cape on around his neck.

“I know,” he says, and he stands up straighter, gets into the new wavelength.  _ ‘Robin breaks away from the Bat, becomes his own hero,’  _ the call sheet description for today had said. Channels it into his attitude, and every note Drew had given him, and he tells Bruce, “I've always known that you couldn't protect me forever.”

Bruce stares at him for a minute, silent, and Niall waits for him, and it's the moment. This is it, for them. 

“You know, when we met,” he begins, voice quiet but stable, “We were so similar, but also just. So different. You’re good, you're pure. We might have started fighting for similar reasons, but your motives for doing all of this. They were different from mine.”

Dick takes in his words, and Niall imagines in his head the swell of the score in this scene, strings building up just to be silenced right before he says firmly, “Not anymore.” 

Dramatic reprise in the background, and he puts on the mask, grabs hold of his staff, gives Bruce one more look, then leaves, with his cape flowing behind him gracefully.

They do this several more times, to the point that the cape swish Drew’s making him emphasize at the end makes him feel more embarrassed than anything else, the cool factor long gone. 

Then, Drew’s calling cheers for Ben’s last day and he's smiling at the applause he's given, pulling Niall into a side hug that makes him laugh in surprise. 

“Got maybe two more in me, maybe, then I'm done,” Ben tells him quietly as the crew wraps up for the day, and the others, with Louis and Liam, are talking dinner plans. Ben’s paying, as per Drew’s orders. “Figure one can be a Bat Family picture. You in?”

Niall blinks, then says eloquently, “Huh?”

“I figure, by the sequel to this you'll be Nightwing,” he says, and he's right, if the trajectory of the film is right. By the next Titans film, he gives up the Robin mantle and becomes a new hero. “Makes it perfect timing for a Bat Family picture. Never been done before. I'm going to pitch it soon, but would you be willing to do it?”

He blinks again, and. “Yeah, yeah of course.”

Ben beams at him, holds out his hand which he takes in a firm handshake, and tells him, “I meant when I said that this could be another day job for you. You're good.”

“Thanks,” he says quietly, and the costume he's still in begins to weigh him down a bit.

“You'll be fine,” he tells him, smile still on his face, and he walks off to his trailer to change out of his suit. Niall sighs, loosens the cape around his neck, and thinks about the possibilities, until the thoughts are too heavy and plentiful that he forces himself to snap out of it.

.

He has the next few weeks off. Saoirse’s starting her block of origin story filming, so he spends the days continuing to work out with Ace, visiting Lou and Freddie when he can, and visiting the set more often than not. 

He watches her and marvels at her talent. Seems to just transform from this bright Irish flower into a dark, dry-humored soul with such ease. Seems to play off of Liam Neeson so seamlessly, and he gets shaken up watching them interact and scream and destroy each other from the inside out. 

“I don't understand how you can do that,” he says over lunch one day. He doesn't need to be there, technically, but catering on set is good and the on set gym is real useful. She's nodding at him as she eats her rice, and she's still in makeup and her recently dyed purple hair intimidates him a little, but the way her eyes light up tell him she's out of character. It's not lost on him, either, that his accent just gets so much stronger when he's talking to her. “I don't - you're so good, like. I'm still shaking and I wasn't even in the scene.”

“Ay,” she says, reaches down to feed Ace some chicken straight from her hand. “Thanks, but you're not doing badly yourself. You're so good, got nothing to be afraid of.”

“Still, it's different when you've been doing this for ages like you, and just got into it like me,” he says, breathing out. “Maybe I'm in over my head?”

“Don't be like that, you're amazing,” she says, “got that Grayson heart down. Never seen anyone work so hard in my life. You’re making all of us feel bad - don’t give me that look, you are - with how hard you're working for this.”

“Arghhh,” he kind of just groans, and he sighs, feeling very insecure and it’s really dawning on him, that everyone he’s working with is just so much better than him naturally. “Harry never said anything about this part.”

“Harry? Is - oh, you mean your Harry?” she says, and he chokes on his water, is about to correct her but she gives him a look, says clearly  _ ‘You know what I mean.’  _ “He in the other Nolan’s film, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he tells her, and she nods. 

“What does he tell you, then? About the acting and everything?”

“Not really anything,” he says. “I, um, I haven't really talked to him in a bit. Not for a few weeks.”

She blinks at him, eyes wide. “Yeah? That's strange.”

“How so?” Niall blinks back, and she waves her hands around a bit as she chews her food down. 

“I mean, you two, out of the four of you. Just seemed closer and everything. Like, you looked at each other differently.”

“He's my best mate.”

“Not just that,” she shrugs, nonchalantly, and Niall pauses. “It's not my business, really. Just something I noticed before, when I see the two of you onstage or in interviews. It's a silly observation. Sorry.”

“Uh, no, don't worry about it,” he waves her apology off, and she finishes her food before Andy and Chrissy whisk her off for a retouch. 

Ace lays his head on his thigh, and he starts rubbing the fur on his head automatically. He'd never even realized, but he supposed it's true. He's always looked at Harry differently, but.

He tries not to think about it, but it does involuntarily cross his mind every now and then, on days off and on days when he's on set, but work keeps him busy and he works his arse off to keep up with everyone else, and maybe, to not let himself think about Harry, even more importantly.

The five of them eat out a lot, and he has them over often as well, makes them steak or maybe a curry every now and then and there's always ice cream after. 

“What do you think our couple name would be?” Dylan's asking him, a bit off his face and beer in his hand as he's cuddling Niall in the lounge chair. “‘Nylan?’ ‘Diall?’ Diall seems fun, plenty of phone-related puns for sure.”

_ “‘You used to call me on my cellphone,’”  _ John croons, slouched over a chair of his own. “‘Jiall’ has a good ring to it.”

“‘Naoirse?’ Sounds an awful much like ‘nurture,’” Saoirse says, not as trashed as the other two are.

“‘Saoir-iall’ - know what, nevermind, don't even know how I'd spell it,” Niall says, petting Dylan's hair as Dylan rubs Ace’s belly with his socked foot.

“Must be weird, to know something you've made is so popular that people just want to pair you with someone else,” she says, and Barbara hums next to her. “Never really had that before.”

“You will now,” Niall says, and it's a sobering thought. Been so used to One Direction’s speed, the fans, and their love for the friendships and relationships he and the other boys have and don't have. Will be weird to be in another set of fans’ eyes and have him be imagined loving another person. It's strange. 

“I'm claiming you,” Barbara says, hugs Saoirse as they laugh. “So many articles thinking me and Niall are in love again. So tiring.”

“Never stopped,” he says, kisses her cheek and she smiles. But they're not like that anymore, and it is tiring to see the Google Alert Ciara had set up for him just give him notification after notification of all these gossip magazine write-ups about Barbara and him hooking up between takes in trailers. She hasn't even started filming yet, so. 

“Things are going to be different, for all of us,” he says, and they look at him. “Not a bad team though. To be on the ride with.”

Dylan kisses his cheek with a loud smack after the brief pause at his words, making him laugh in his surprise, and he fears for the chair’s life when the others bury him in a dogpile. 

The lads end up passing out as soon as he deposits them in the guest rooms, too trashed to even be thinking about driving, and it's honestly a good thing they've got a free day tomorrow. He walks Saoirse out as soon as her agent comes round, and then it's just him and Barbara, waiting in the kitchen for her ride. 

“Sorry, about all the rumors,” he says, offering her some tea as they wait. “I heard you're with someone now? It must be inconvenient.”

“It's alright,” she says, shrugging a bit. “We're not really, um, exclusive. But he's nice, and he's quiet. Maybe I need that.”

“He treat you well?”

“He does,” she tells him. “Not the jealous type, so the rumors don't really bother him, but maybe that’s because he think we're on the same page.”

“And what page is that?”

She just gives him a small smile, doesn’t really answer him instead and admits, “I mean. It's not like, love, or anything. Just, it's fun. For now, I think it's what I can do.”

He frowns, but doesn't say anything. He'll always want the best for her, but it's her life and he doesn't really have a say in it, not the way he used to. He trusts her judgement, in any case. 

“So,” she says after the short silence, leaning forward on the counter and a glint in her eye. “How’ve you been?”

“Just work, really,” he tells her. It's the truth. 

“The other boys?”

“Well, they're working too. Just, not here,” he says, confused. 

“Harry?”

He blinks, and his chest gets tight for a reason he can't really put down. “Um, if you want to talk to him, I can give you his number-”

“No, dummy, not for me,” she says impatiently, and he thinks. Then. 

“Oh,  _ oh,  _ no, not you too,” he says, shaking his head and blames the alcohol for his red flushed skin. “You've not been talking to Saoirse, have you?”

“What - no, come on, Niall,” she says, rolls her eyes at him for not seeing how obvious it is. He blinks again. “Known you for years. You can't tell that he likes you?”

“He's my best mate,” he repeats, but the words come out strange.

She stares at him, then tells him, “You like him too, yes?”

“Barbara, he's my,” he goes to say it again, but he pauses when his throat gets tight, his chest swelling with a feeling he's familiar with, always associated with Haz, but. He's never really put a name to it, and he doesn't know if he even really wants to. 

Her ride is there, though, and she just gives him a small smile when she comes over to hug him goodbye. He walks her out, and Ace whines as he watches him clean up the back to clear his head, his belly flopped down on the cool stone of the poolside.

.

Come July, they all drive over to San Diego as filming halts for the week, and Niall is rolling around in nerves. Not really everyday that he finds himself at Comic Con, much less be a panelist in the biggest hall for one of the biggest audiences ever recorded for the convention. It's the five of them, Drew, and Jonathan for the Titans panel, but he and the other Titans have interviews with the different media outlets and magazines and websites day of. 

He can't say he's not having fun, it's tiring but he's used to the groove of jumping from room to room and introducing himself to interviewers and cameramen and producers before the questions come, but the questions asked throw him off. He's not so used to being asked how it was to have to gain the muscle, to learn how to flip and somersault and fight, how it was to work with his cast mates and director and how it felt to be the Robin for a new generation of fans. It was cool, but really very strange. 

He, Dylan and John answer the questions about the costumes, driving attention away from the girls and they have fun at the interviewers’ expense, but rather than make Saoirse and Barbara uncomfortable, they just talk shit about how he trips over the cape and the spandex rides up his arse while John says it feels a lot like his Stormtrooper outfit, and Dylan just says that the green paint takes forever to remove and finds its way everywhere. 

They do the mini photo shoots, one after the other, and he's crouching like a goblin on a stool at one point with Saoirse flying behind him and everyone else in similar stupid stances for Entertainment Weekly, and the girls are kissing his cheeks, then John and Dylan doing the same on him for Variety, and for the sake of being cool, they all do identical superhero brooding poses for Deadline, for which he has no doubt turns out to be ridiculous anyway.

“Come on, liquid luck,” John says in the hotel, a bit more than an hour away from the panel proper, and he’s slamming down a bottle of a liquor of a sort, and several shot glasses. 

He rolls his eyes, but everyone else jumps in, Dylan pouring out a shot each for the girls, and Niall accepts his own reluctantly, but regardless, he downs the shot easily, and is even game enough to take another.

He’s not quite sure what to make of everything, the attention he’s used to being so different to what he’s receiving now. Never quite liked the spotlight in its entirety in the first place. He adores and is grateful for the fans, for anyone who supports him, but all the eyes and attention, it was never really a thing he loved. Knows that this is a different audience he’s trying to please, now, and more than anything, he doesn’t want to disappoint anyone. 

Hall H is massive, and famous, and intimidating. Almost 7,000 people, well over the hall’s real capacity, crammed inside for the two-hour DC panel. The Justice League is the finale of the three-part panel, Ben, Henry, Gal, Jason, Ezra and Ray laughing, relaxed as Zack chats them up side stage as they start off with the collective DC television universe, Grant and Melissa and Stephen and their supporting casts up onstage, forty minutes until the Teen Titans are introduced to the rest of the world.

Saoirse and Barbara are holding his hands, flanking either side of him as they watch from the side of the stage, as Dylan and John are mucking around and Drew is speaking to the Nolans, and not for the first time today, Niall wishes that he had his boys with him. Knows that's not quite possible, with Louis in LA with Freddie and Liam with Cheryl somewhere in Europe and Harry and his insufferable management team somewhere else altogether, establishing his solo career. 

Well, in a way, so was Niall, a new kind of career where he’s on his own, but then again, he's got a new family to take with him along for the ride this time around as well.

It’s not very long until the moderator’s calling them out for their turn at the panel. Dylan, then Saoirse, then John, Barbara, and him, then Jonathan and Drew introduced in that order and they take their seats. Niall smiles shyly when the crowd just lights up when he goes out, and he’s immediately mistaken when previous notions of the audience being mostly male fans is put out by the collective high-pitched noise. Everyone else teases him, makes fun of his popularity, but it’s in good fun, and he just ducks his head, even more flustered.

He listens as Drew and Jonathan answer the first questions about the film. How they got it off the ground, why they wanted to do it in the first place, how they resurrected the idea from a TV show that ended up not being greenlighted. Attention turns to him for the first question for the actors, and he’s asked, “So, Niall,” a brief pause in which the majority of the crowd loses its mind, “You’re known mostly for your work with One Direction.”

“Yes,” he says, adjusts the glasses on his face and fiddling with his hair, and all the cameras on him make him feel slightly self-conscious. Never been so many people to see him the way he looks now all at once. He knows he doesn’t look the same, but he certainly feels like he’s still the same person.

“This is your first acting role, and it's a banger.”

“Really is,” he says, and they continue. 

“How did you react, to being sought out for Robin?”

He considers the question initially, and he can’t really come up with the proper words to convey how he really feels about it all. He smiles awkwardly for a minute, and he can’t quite control it from turning into an embarrassed beam that makes his eyes crinkle. He laughs gently, lowering his head to hide his face, and the table and most of the audience laugh with him. It gets him feeling looser, and he finally speaks as his face pinks up considerably, “Um, I didn't want to take it at first, if I'm being honest. Mostly for my lack of experience and, um. Maybe self-doubt, because. As I’m sure many in the room know, Dick’s not the only Robin, but he is probably the most known. To have to take up the responsibility to be him in front of cameras is scary and weird, but it's turning out to be really fulfilling. 

“I did my best - I feel like I'm discouraging people,” he backtracks, laughing nervously and it ripples in the room, “I promise, I worked my arse off to get him as right and as faithful as I could according to the script and the comics, so. I hope it goes okay.”

“So, how did the rest of the band react to you becoming the famous Boy Wonder?”

“Oh, well,” he laughs, tries not to make it sound as nervous as he feels. Been getting quite good at that. “It was risky, but they were on board with it. I wouldn’t have taken it otherwise. This experience has been amazing, crazy and exhausting and really unlike I’ve ever done before, but those boys are my priority. Always will be.”

They move on from him, and he smiles and listens as the rest of the group answer questions asked to them, and laughs when the grand amount of Irish influence in the movie, what with two Irish heroes and a very Irish Liam Neeson as their antagonist, is mentioned, but he lets Saoirse handle that one, merely nodding and beaming along when his name is dropped.

He’d been expecting it when the attention is turned to him and Barbara, completely not surprised when they’re asked, “Dick and Kori - yeah,” they pause again when the crowd erupts, and Barbara looks to him, rolling her eyes discreetly and he laughs. “Dick and Kori are a beloved couple in the DC universe. Is it awkward at all to be playing such a popular pairing, knowing that you two have history?”

He looks back at her, gestures for her to begin, and she shrugs, before saying, “Niall and I are friends, we’ve always been comfortable with each other. We didn’t take the roles to stir up anything. We just liked the characters.”

“If people are looking for drama or anything, I don’t think they’re really looking in the right place here,” he adds. “I love Barbara, not in the way most people seem to be expecting, but um, no. Not really awkward, not anything. We’re friends, we’re good.”

“Can we expect Robin and Starfire, though?”

“They are a vital part of the Titans make-up, so yes, a bit may be expected,” Jonathan takes the reigns, and Niall’s left alone again. Barbara gives him a small shrug, and he smiles quietly at her, holding his fist out for a bump which she reciprocates almost immediately.

Audience questions lasts for just a few minutes, rushed as the next part of the panel with the Justice League is about to go on, so Niall doesn’t really get to speak much, not even when the one question directed towards him,  _ “Will we get to see Robin and Batman interact at all?”,  _ is interrupted and answered all in one go when Ben runs out to the table and attacks him with a hug, then a kiss to the cheek, which makes him erupt in laughter and the crowd erupt in shrieks. 

They play a rough edit of a clip, very short, wherein Robin had gone out on his own, patrolling the city without Batman knowing, and he’s fighting this gang on the pier who’d been attempting to smuggle out a group of girls to be sold, and he’s doing well until one of the trafficker’s hits him right where the broken ribs should be, and he collapses to the ground as he groans, and everyone attacks him and they multiply and he’s overwhelmed. Then, of course he’s saved when Raven comes in and does her magic, making them fly off, and the rest of the team comes up and saves everyone.

_ ‘Are you alright?’  _ Barbara’s asking him onscreen, and he’s very glad they’d let her keep her accent. It allows her character to become even more endearing, though it doesn’t take much. She’s helping him stand and her hands skate around his waist and her eyes shine a bright green. Contacts, but. 

He watches himself nod at her words, breathing as Cyborg, Beast Boy and Raven come up around them. 

_ ‘Shouldn’t be fighting with broken bones,’  _ Saoirse says in her perfect, monotone accent, and he stares at her, then to the rest of them. 

_ ‘What are you even doing in Gotham?’  _ he asks them, suspicious, and they stare right back at him.

_ ‘We can leave, if you want,’  _ John’s saying heatedly, and they glare at each other before he adds,  _ ‘Could thank us, you know, for saving your life.’ _

_ ‘I don’t need help,’  _ he says through clenched teeth, but Dylan speaks up then.

_ ‘Dude, we’re not saying you do, we know you’re good,’  _ he says, tries to calm everyone down.  _ ‘But sometimes, you do need a team. Some things can’t be beaten when you’re on your own.’ _

_ ‘And this team needs you,’  _ Raven tells him, and he goes to look at her instead, and she’s lowered her hood, and her expression is imploring.  _ ‘We can’t do this on our own. You’re the most experienced out of all of us. We need you in this team. Please, Dick.’ _

He looks at her, then looks at all of them, stopping at Starfire, who’s still holding on to his arm. He breathes deeply, and the last shot is of his intense gaze, like a proper superhero, and then black, and the audience, all on their feet, cheers like anything. Brings him back to the days of touring and being on top of the world. Realizes with a start that he still is, just. Maybe he’s just looking out from a different peak.

.

_ “Harry’s inviting you to a show,”  _ Ciara’s telling him, voice on loudspeaker, and he snorts, and Andy gives him an unimpressed look as he fixes his makeup.  _ “Niall, come on.” _

“I’m filming everyday now, I can’t just go,” he says, and it’s true.

Public reaction to the film thus far had been rather warm, much warmer than he, and the others, had been expecting. Second only to the JLA, the Titans were the most searched and most talked about panel from Comic Con, and it had taken Ciara at least a week to compile everything for him to see, making sure to avoid all the trash tabloids that can't seem to focus on anything other than the supposed sexual tension between him and Barbara, or even him and Saoirse. All the articles, already praising the cast’s chemistry, all the fan pictures and Tweet after Tweet and comments, positive or negative, all the hype.

_ ‘fuck me he looks so good with that new hair.’ _

_ ‘He looks like he bulked up omf he listened to us he got the arms back.’ _

_ ‘Harry’s still hotter, he didn’t have to work for that body, he just has it-’ _

_ ‘omg niall better marry saoirse they look so good together!!’ _

_ ‘I think I found my new otp: horaffleck.’ _

_ ‘shit people who were there are hyping the clip they showed they said niall’s accent was so good this is gonna be so lit-’ _

_ ‘NADDDDDDDDDDDYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!’ _

_ “Well, you have days off, don’t you?” _ she says, sounding unimpressed and maybe disappointed.  _ “Could do to support your friend.” _

“Ciara,” he says petulantly, drawing out the last syllable, but she just snorts at him, and he feels the judgement even through the phone. “Haven’t seen him in ages. And he’s never made an effort before.”

_ “Well, he’s making an effort now,”  _ she says.  _ “And what, are you trying to avoid him?” _

“No,” he says too quickly, and Andy’s the one who gives him an unimpressed snort this time around. “No, I’m not.”

_ “Oh, so I just suppose you’re going to do the same and not make an effort, either?”  _

Niall opens his mouth, only to close it again, and he huffs as the mask is being glued to his face. “That’s not fair.”

_ “Stop being an immature twat,”  _ she says,  _ “You don’t want to lose another friend, do you?” _

He goes quiet again, and it hurts much more than he’d care to admit. 

_ “And don’t you front with me, I know Harry is special to you,”  _ she says, and he coughs, feels his cheeks pink up.  _ “It’s just one night, Niall. I doubt it will do you much harm. He says he misses you.” _

“Could tell me that himself, then,” he says, but he knows he’s on the losing end. He sighs, and she makes a satisfied little noise, knows she’s got him.

_ “Alright, well, he’ll be in LA in a few weeks, and he’s reserved a ticket for you, but if you want to bring your castmates, he said they’re more than welcome to come.” _

He tries not to scoff, but it doesn’t stop him from rolling his eyes. “Yeah, okay. I'll see if I'll be free then.”

_ “You are, I made sure,”  _ she says promptly, and he curses under his breath.  _ “Alright, see you soon. Have a good day, kick Liam Neeson’s arse.” _

“Right, see you,” he says rather gruffly, but she’s hung up, and he’s left to pout at his reflection, all masked up and ready to go.

“Something’s in your head,” Barbara tells him matter-of-factly later on in the day, and they're at that point where this one scene is driving them all up the wall. Shot from thousands of angles, done in so many different ways and they can't quite get it right, not that they're doing bad. It's just not the way Drew wants it yet, and he can't quite figure out how to achieve it just yet. Thus, he'd called for a break to look at the shots they already have, and the others have taken to watching stupid dog videos on Instagram by the makeup tables. 

He looks at her, emerald green contacts in and long wavy hair colored a deep red. She's got one of them insulating coats on, shield from the cold and he doesn't blame her, wants one himself, and he's in a full suit. She's got on one of those purple bodysuits of spandex, cutouts on the sides of her torso and on her shoulders, her hips exposed from the high-cut bottoms, legs in thigh high boots. Already much more covered than Starfire’s original costumes, but still. She wears it extremely well, though. Must be the model in her, but she fights in it easily, does her stunts and flies and makes it look effortless. 

“Harry's being annoying,” he says, knows full well he can't quite lie to her. Guides her to a quieter corner with a hand to the small of her back, huddles close to her as they go. “And I'm being a twat.”

“What happened?” she asks him, taking a seat on his director’s chair, his name printed on the back.

He sighs, pulls up one of the other chairs, thinks it might be John’s, and puts it right next to her, and leans in close as he says, “He's inviting me to one of his solo shows here in LA in a few weeks, but he asked through my agent. Didn't even bother asking me himself.”

“Did you ever consider that's because you've been pretty hostile lately?” she says, her voice light. 

“I've not been hostile,” he says, frowns at her words, and she just shrugs. 

“I'd be nervous to ask you myself too, if you'd been avoiding me and purposely not talking to me,” she says, and he looks at her. “I get where he's coming from. He just wants to reach out. You're going, right?”

He blinks. “Should I?”

She stares at him. “Niall, like you said. He’s your best friend. Of course you should go.”

“He said I could bring you lot, if I wanted to.”

“And do you want us to come with you?”

He stays silent, but he knows a reddish flush is spreading across his skin, and she rolls her eyes at him, calls out the others. “Do you want to watch Harry Styles? He’ll be here in a few weeks.”

“Oh, free tickets?” are Dylan’s words, looking up from John’s phone where they’ve been laughing at this one Pomeranian getting her butt fur snipped to perfection, and it’s reassuringly comforting.

“Well, there you go,” she says, shrugging. “I hope your boy isn't sold out yet.” She pauses. “Wait, that sounds awful, I didn't mean for it to come out like that-”

“Ay, I've been missing you,” he attacks her with a hug, and she makes a small  _ “oof!”  _ noise in her surprise. 

So they do end up going, all five of them, to Harry's show in a large-ish theater in the heart of Hollywood. Ciara's managed to get them passes backstage instead of actual seats, don't want to cause too much of a commotion, and Niall actually fights, argues to not arrive early. Just as the lights go on and Harry's bouncing his way onstage do they actually make their way to side, watching from the flanks and they’re having fun, much more than he’d been expecting, and Niall chooses to watch him. 

He fills the stage well. It is a small stage, granted, but he'd always known that if Harry so wanted, he could easily command a crowd, have them eating from the palm of his hand and entertain like a proper showman. It's strange, seeing just him onstage. He acts differently, slightly, to the way he'd be if he were with the rest of them. More flamboyant, more out there, but also, not really. Not as many antics, not as many strange voices or foolery. He talks more to the crowd, interacts with them, but slightly differently. More personally.

“He's good,” Barbara tells him as he's bounding out for an encore. He’s still him, but a different sort of spirit, as well. “Are you disappointed?”

It's a strange question, but Niall knows exactly what she's asking. He doesn't look at her, just stares as Harry begins a slow, guitar-accompanied version of ‘Walking in the Wind.’ It's haunting and beautiful, and Niall isn't disappointed in the least. 

“No, I'm proud of him,” he replies, and she hums next to him. “So proud. Maybe sad, a bit hurt, because he did this to us, but at the mo? I'm not disappointed.”

“You really do love him, then,” she says, and he knows that she means well. Love, in whatever sense, brotherhood or companionship or. Something else that he can't identify, or doesn't want to. Love, all of it, when it's all boiled down to its barest bones.

“I do,” he says, and he means it. He smiles, bows his head slightly, “And, you know what? I never would have had you lot in my life, if he hadn't done what he did. I have to thank him, as much as I resented him for a while, back then.”

“Such an idiot,” she says, tapping at his cheek, and he laughs a bit. 

“I haven't quite forgiven him yet,” he admits. “But. I think I do understand why he did it, now. I just wish he didn't go about it the way he did. That's all.”

“Dangerous thing to say, ‘that's all,’” she says. “There's always something else. Even if you don't know it yet.”

He glances at her, and her perfect eyebrow is arched slightly as she considers him, and he sighs, knows she’s really very right.

Show ends not much later, crowd ringing in all of their ears as they applaud and scream for Harry as he takes his final bows, and they're being whisked away by some of his crew to the dressing room to greet him.

Harry's just barely gotten out of a shower when they're finally cleared to go in, and it irks Niall that he doesn't know probably all of the people in this crew.

“Hey, mate, I'm John,” introduces himself first, coming forward to shake his hand, and to Harry's credit, he grins back almost as wide and has his hand a firm grip, even with the sopping wet hair dangling all over his face and the wet form his poorly dried chest staining his top. “Sick show, was great fun.”

“Thanks, that means a lot,” he says, smiling and leaning forward as Dylan then greets him, and Niall knows from the way Harry's holding himself that he's not quite sure how to act around him. It's cruel, and a sadly self-satisfactory thought, and Niall never wanted it to be like this between them. 

Saoirse and Barbara hang back with him, letting the boys chat Harry up a bit, lets Niall get his wits about him as they hold his arm, his hand, his back. Something.

“Hi, I'm Harry,” he comes towards them then, smiling and holding his hand out to Saoirse first, and she's more than kind, smiling and holding his hand with both of hers. He leans in and hugs Barbara, and when he stands up again to face him. 

His eyes have gone soft, almost. Looks at him gently, and Niall swallows the heart in his throat. “Ni, thank you for coming.”

He grasps his arm gently, as if content to leave it at that, but he's a twat. Niall snorts, and reels him in for a real hug, right and wraps his arms around him tightly, tucking his face into his shoulder. Like, everything they do. Can never deny Harry the small act of comfort that is an embrace, regardless of what's happened. 

“Proud of you,” he pulls back, patting his cheek in what he hopes is an affectionate manner, and Harry's eyes shine, glisten the slightest bit, his shoulders dropping in relief. 

“That - that means so much, Niall, thank you,” he says, makes his voice just quiet enough that only Niall hears it, and Niall gives him the strangest smile, and he means it, but it doesn't stop things from being really very awkward, between them. “I, um, there’s a bit of an afterparty, Jeff’s arranged it, I think it’s at his place. You all are more than welcome to come, if you’d like.”

“Oh, hotshot got an afterparty,” John says, and Niall’s not quite sure if the steam coming off his ears is visible. 

“Oh, no, no it’s just a small thing,” Harry says, can somehow sense his apprehension, the shift in atmosphere minute, but definitely felt. “It’s alright, if you don’t want to-”

“No, no, we’ll go,” Niall says, speaking for the rest of them. He feels Barbara look at him curiously, but he makes himself look at Harry. “Been working nonstop for weeks, now. Could do to have a bit of fun.”

Harry blinks at him unsurely, and Niall doesn’t know how to deal with everything now, but he thinks a bit of a smile won’t hurt either of them.

The party  _ is  _ small, in terms of what he’s used to, and what he’s sure Harry is used to throwing for himself. A little less than a hundred people crammed in Jeff’s home, and it’s mostly fancy vodka drinks and a real bartender, pretentious finger foods that surely can’t be filling, music playing quietly through every room and chatter.

He greets Jeff, tries not to make it sound too stiff, and by the warm handshake and grin he gets in turn, he thinks it to be successful. Maybe an improvement on his acting skills. He doesn’t see anyone he really knows, many acquaintances, but his association with probably all of them is somehow connected to in someway to Harry, and it doesn’t seem to be the type of night where he’s willing to make small talk or the like.

“Well, you look like you’re having fun,” Saoirse finds him outside, perched near the fence and staring at the really very lovely flowers growing in the garden.

“See you’ve not taken advantage of the open bar,” he says, touching one rosebud, full of promise. 

“Not to sound stereotypically Irish,” she says, rolling her eyes as she throws the little bit of drink in her martini glass on the grass, “But it’d be nice to get a pint. Or even just some really good tea, that would be great.”

“This is exhausting,” he says, looks out to the skies above. “This, this isn’t my type of scene. Just thought it would be good to let him know that I still do care about him. But I’m tired.”

“Well, that’s obvious enough,” she says, comes to look at the roses as well.

“My exhaustion, or the other bit?”

“Everything,” she replies, and her eyes are bright when she looks at him. “But especially the other one. Do you not want him to go off on his own? Or, is it something else? You’re always so tense, whenever it’s mentioned.”

“I don’t quite know how to explain it,” he tells her, and it makes him sad. “It’s not that I don’t want him to make his music and be incredible in everything. I do, really. I wish him every success.”

“Then why aren’t you really happy?” she asks him.

He looks at her, before he takes a deep, suddering breath, tries not to let everything get to him. “He promised us. Me. We said a year and a half, and he went off and made plans for almost three years. It felt like betrayal.”

“I don’t want to sound like I’m siding with him,” she says slowly, “But. I don’t think he really meant to hurt any of you.”

“He didn’t mean to, is the thing, but you don’t know Harry like I do,” he says, and he drinks the last of his vodka tonic in one go. “He’d always known that it would make everything different. He did it anyway.”

She stays quiet next to him, and there are people all around, laughing and talking and making most of the night. He doesn’t care.

“It’s also, um,” he says, clears his throat as he blinks the stinging in his eyes. “We’d always known that we’d have a short shelf life. But Harry, people would stay interested in him for longer, and we knew that. Zayn got out as early as he could,” his breath goes short, and he breathes deeply, tries to get everything out. “And I love him, I love them both, but Harry. I think it’s stupid of me to deny that he’s always been more important to me.”

“It’s not bad to have favorites,” she says, and he chuckles a bit, nodding.

“It isn’t, but it can be painful,” he says. “And I still love Z. I am proud of him, but I don’t think we’ll ever really speak to each other, not anymore. I, shit. I can’t imagine that happening to me and Haz, but I think that might just be what’s happening to us.”

“Not if you do something about it,” she says, and he makes a small noise.

“And what do you think I should do about it, then?”

“It’s like you said,” she says, dusting herself off. “I don’t know him. But you do. Figure something out.”

He groans, and she laughs at him, patting the side of his overheated face. “Don’t want to.”

“Christ, drink some water,” she says, helping him to straighten up. “Now, I’m going to round up the lads, and Barbara’s gone off, found a few of her friends, left just a bit ago. We, unlike you, have got a full fifteen hour day waiting for us tomorrow.”

He grunts, and she’s pulling down his face, makes him look her straight in the eye. “Now, you can come along if you want, or you can stay. What do you want to do?”

Niall swallows, thinks for a moment though he already knows what he wants. “Um, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, then,” she says, sounding as if that had been the outcome she’s been expecting in the first place, and she gives him a chaste peck in goodbye, as they do, not quite a full on kiss, but the sides of their mouths graze each other very briefly, and she’s off, waving to him as she goes back in the house to look for John and Dylan.

He doesn’t know what to expect, once he’s left with no one he really wants to talk to, but he figures hiding out in the gardens and staring at the flowers until everything winds down slightly will do him a bit of good. Sober himself up before he does anything stupid, and it takes much quicker than he’d thought, barely half an hour before he finds his mind unbearably clear, crowd still a rather sizeable number. It takes no time at all for everyone to grate on his nerves, and he’s nice, always is, but he also finds himself making excuses once a conversation topic is underway, and soon enough he makes a very much unwanted but very much needed trip to the bar.

He’s nursing a tame Tequila Sunrise, all sunshine and happiness in fruit and alcohol form, not his usual, but it’s what he needs, and that’s when someone sits next to him, says, “Not what I’d expect you to like, but I don’t doubt it’s good.”

Niall groans, thumping his head on the counter, “Harry.”

“Ni,” he says, signalling for another round of whatever he’s having. “I’m glad you stayed.”

“Lucky my call time’s a bit later, tomorrow,” he says, sips at the drink.

“How is it?” Harry asks him, and Niall looks at him then. His hair’s the slightest bit longer, almost at the length he’d had when they were right in the midst of the Take Me Home tour. Simpler time then, or maybe he was just more naive. “The filming? I heard about San Diego, that must have been great.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, it’s been. It’s been, uh, it’s been something,” he says, not quite sure what word to use. “The people are great, but the work’s really different. You know that. Have to work out everyday, like, proper work out. And the hair’s still going to need some getting used to, but it’s been good.”

“Yeah, I didn’t know how to bring it up then,” he says, smiles quietly, and, almost shyly, reaches up to just pull at a tuft of his black hair. “It looks good.”

“Look like a real superhero,” he acquiesces, bows his head down so Harry can get at most of his locks.

“You always were.”

Niall pauses, and Harry clears his throat, almost awkwardly. “Um. The show was good. Really good.”

“Thank you,” he says, and he sounds touched. “I’ve been working really hard.”   
“Yeah, it shows,” he says. “Where you off to next?”

“Florida, but not for another three weeks,” he answers. “Have a bit of a break now.”

“Oh. Are you, um, you’re staying here in LA?”

“Yeah, just here,” he confirms. He sits closer to him, and it’s quiet between them for a moment, but it’s nothing they’re not used to. Years together and silence had become something of a comfort. 

There’s a bit of a shift in the air, a minute later. Something palpable that Niall can’t quite place. “So. You and Saoirse, then?”

“What?” he says, completely confused. He looks at Harry, but his face is all feigned nonchalance, indifference. 

“I thought, maybe a lot of people did, that maybe you and Barbara would, I don’t know, maybe figure things out,” he says, and Niall is starting to realize what he means. “But, um, maybe we thought wrong, then?”

“Why me and Saoirse, though?” he says. “We’re friends. That’s it.”

“Didn’t really look that way maybe twenty minutes ago,” he says, and Niall really gets it, then. “Friends don’t just kiss each other.”

“Well, we’re weird,” he says. “I mean, all five of us. I chewed on John’s lip the other day as a dare, we’re just. We’re like that. We have to be comfortable with each other.”

“So we weren’t weird?” Harry asks him. Niall stops speaking. “As far as five, four, boys go, we were really weird.”

“Yeah, well,” Niall sighs. “A different weird, but yeah-”

The rest of his words don’t have the opportunity to come out, because Harry chooses that moment to come forward, kisses him softly. It's not anything more than what he and Saoirse did earlier, certainly not as much spit or tongue than that dare with John, and yet. Doesn't feel like something done for the sake of a weird friendship. Doesn't feel like nothing.

“I, I'm sorry,” Harry says quietly, but he doesn't move away. Keeps his face within the same proximity. Just an inch between their lips. His eyes are the strangest, most alluring green, the thinnest ring surrounding his dark pupils.

“You're so weird,” he says, and he's sure it sounds strange, the way he says it on an exhale, but it's not like he's saying he didn't like it. He actually did, very, very much. 

They should move away from each other, not look as though they'd just snogged, however briefly. There are still plenty of people here, and Niall's not confident that no one had seen what had transpired. So, of course it's a stupid thing to lean back in and kiss him again, longer and deeper and more insistent, and they do it anyway.

Harry tastes like Harry. Niall's not surprised as he sucks on his tongue, feels his hands feel him up, running over his shoulders, over his back, his arms. They separate, just to grab at each other’s hands and Harry’s dragging them to the nearest bathroom. They’re snogging insistently, nonstop, and the sink’s digging into his back, but Niall doesn’t care much.

“You’re hard everywhere,” Harry’s murmuring against his mouth, hands slipped under his top and feeling his skin, his recently acquired mass of muscle. “It’s so strange.”

“We’re snogging,  _ that’s  _ strange,” he mutters, pulling Harry’s face towards his and sucking and chewing on his bottom lip. Definitely weird, but definitely not in the same way it had been to do the same to John. This, this has the promise of something, and it makes him moan and get hard in his pants.

“Do you want to stop, then?” Harry's asking him, and Niall breathes, knows he's never wanted anything less. 

“Do your worst,” he says, and Harry just dives back in, kissing him fiercely and urging him to open his legs a bit, let him stand between them to get at his face better. 

‘Worst,’ at least for the moment, means getting down to his knees after a very productive ten or so minutes for making out, and he struggles a bit with getting his belt off and the zipper down, a bit of a deviance from the image of Harry of being a sex god that can strip you in one fell swoop, but either way, Niall doesn't think he's ever been this turned on. He watches him pull his pants down, and his cock jumps up to his stomach, slightly smearing his shirt where he's leaked at the tip, and he'd be bothered to give fuck all about the state of his clothing, but he really can't care. Not when Harry's staring at his erection so hungrily, and when he gets his stupidly large hand around him in a sure, firm grip. 

_ “Fuck, holy shit,”  _ Niall grunts, shoving into his grasp, and Harry's taken to sucking marks on his thighs, on his hips. Will be hell for makeup tomorrow, but. “Harry, shit.”

“Sorry, I just,” he says, and his voice is so low, and Niall groans, much louder than he'd intended, when he licks at the head. “This is weird. Is it weird that I like it?”

“Holy fuck, Harry,” he's kind of at a loss for words, breathes and the sound reverberates in the room. Awful acoustics, but the echoing sounds of his staggered breathing, the sounds Harry makes as he goes deeper on him, lets him into his mouth inch by inch, it makes him harder and more turned on.

It's a wonder how Harry gets all of him inside his mouth, into his throat so easily, quickly, but Niall is thankful for it. Even more thankful that hart doesn't wait around, and his hands on his hips guide him out, and helps him shove back in, and he really can't help but whine loudly. Gives him a really sick sort of satisfaction, that he's fucking Harry's mouth, and Harry seems to love getting his mouth fucked, in a bathroom in which Jeff has probably peed in. Sick, really disgusting sense of achievement, but when his cock is enveloped by that heady, wet warmth, he just takes more pleasure in it. 

He goes for it, encouraged when Harry palms his arse and helps him along, fucking in in in and this is the weirdest sort of strange. Not the fact that he's hooking up with his best friend. More of the fact that it doesn't feel the least bit weird, at all.

“God,  _ god fucking fuck,”  _ he breathes, watches as Harry swallows him down each time, and when he glances up, lashes the slightest bit curled in this angle, just as he swallows around his cock, he yells, moans embarrassingly loud as he comes in his throat, quicker than he would have liked, but nothing to be ashamed of. Especially when Harry pulls off, and there is a dribble of his come on the corner of his mouth.

“Come here,” he mutters, pulling him back up and he cleans him up with his tongue, kissing him ferociously. “Now you-”

Harry shakes his head, and Niall stares at him for a moment, but he points down to his crotch, and sure enough. 

“Good thing your shirts are so bloody big on you, then,” he says, reels him in and sucks on his tongue for a good while. 

Things he'd wished he'd considered before allowing his best mate to give him a head achingly good blowjob: not many, really, but the only one he can think of right at that moment is blaringly obvious, beyond problematic. The lazy, lax feeling the orgasm had gifted them is gone much too soon, instead replaced with a type of awkwardness he's too familiar with, though he'd never thought he'd have to feel it with Harry. He doesn't know quite what to do, doesn't know how to go about things, and Harry looks about the same, his eyes unsure and maybe a little scared. 

The banging on the door makes them jump, but it breaks the awkward silence, somewhat. “Are you  _ done?”  _

Niall's ears go red, and he watches Harry’s do the same, and it’s broken the tension but also made it worse, at the same time. They gather themselves, and no point in hiding, what with the noise level that they didn’t quite manage to tamp down, and they leave the room together, and to the person’s credit, he doesn't look surprised or anything when they come out the door. He just gives them an unimpressed, very impatient look, and gets inside as soon as they're out.

“I, um, I think I should go,” Niall says, doesn't know if it's the right thing to say, but he really can't stay quiet. 

“What - no, you don't have to, it's not even midnight yet,” Harry is saying, but Niall shakes his head.

“I have to work tomorrow,” he says, and though he doesn't need to come in until three in the afternoon, it is true that he's got a bit of shooting the next day. “Need to get some sleep, and everything.”

“Oh,” Harry says quietly, eyes shining and his shoulders sagged. “Okay.”

“Yeah, um,” Niall tries, doesn't know if a kiss to the cheek is too much or too little, with what they've done, but he ends up just embracing Harry briefly. “I'll see you, um. Bye.”

“Yeah,” Harry breathes, and he looks at him, just looks, doesn't say anything else or do much else. So Niall takes that as his cue, and makes his way to the door, and leaves. 

He’s definitely not as drunk as he was when they’d fooled around, and his mind is frighteningly clear as he gets himself home. Ace bounds up to him right as he gets to the door, as he always does, and Niall absent-mindedly ruffles his fur, goes about refilling his water and food bowls, but Ace follows him up to his room instead of paying attention to them. 

“Fuck. I fucked up, Ace,” he mutters as he strips off his clothes, gets into a pair of joggers and takes off his glasses. “I fucked up.”

Ace whines in his throat, and as Niall climbs into bed, he does the same, cuddling up right next to him. Niall strokes his fur as they try to sleep, not with much success, but it’s a comforting motion that he continues to do anyway. 

He manages to get an hour or so of sleep in, Ace taking up most of his bed, when the doorbell rings loud and clear throughout the empty house. His sleep wasn’t all that deep, and he wakes immediately, groaning and swearing under his breath when the ringing won’t stop, his guest just jabbing at the doorbell insistently and nonstop. Ace whines, waking up as well, and he rolls around a bit before finally getting off the bed and nosing the door open, going down the stairs.

“Fine! Fine, I’m coming,” he yells as he gets out of bed, goes down and muttering as he goes to answer the door. “Fucking fuck, I’m coming, you wanker.” 

It’s when he gets to the door, and checks who it is, does he regret getting up. But he really can’t turn him away, doesn’t think he has the ability to.

“Ah, shit,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead against the door, Ace pawing at the wood, but he gathers his wits, and opens the door. “Harry, it’s three in the morning.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” he says immediately, “Can I come in?” 

“Yeah, fine, this is Ace the Bat-Hound,” he says when Harry kneels to greet his dog, big beam on his face as Ace licks at him.

“He likes me,” Harry says happily, holding out his palm, which Ace sets his paw down to. 

Niall chooses not mention that his dog is stupidly friendly and likes everyone, much like Harry is, really, and instead says, “What are you doing here? I have to go to work later.”

Harry’s hands freeze where they’ve been feeling up his fur, and Niall watches him straighten up slightly, body stiffened and tensioned.

“What happened earlier,” he begins to say as he stands, and Niall doesn't like where this is going. “I just. I don't know what happened-”

“It's okay, Haz,” he says, though it really isn't. But he wants this done as quickly as possible, he'll deal with the pain later. “It's done. It won't happen again.”

“That's just it, Ni,” he says, and his eyes are wide and nervous and Niall's not used to seeing him like this. Scared in the way that he doesn't know what's going to happen, always known Harry to be confident, easy with himself. Knows what he wants and what he can do to get it. Doesn't look that way now. “You're my best friend, and I wouldn't ever let anything ruin that-”

Niall snorts, can't quite help himself, but he lets Harry off, just this once. Wants to hear what else he has to say. 

“I know, I'm sorry,” he says, and Ace whimpers as he flops down on the floor, head cradled on his one leg. “But you know what I mean. I don't know what came over me, but I don't regret any of what happened earlier. I, shit, Niall. I want more, I want to do more with you and I know you'll probably shut me down but I just need to try. I want to try, if, um, if you'll let me.”

His voice trails off meekly, and Niall can't stop staring at him. He feels very exposed, out of his element and he has no idea on how to go about anything. He knows Harry is the same, and everything is just so weird, and nothing will be the same. 

“Harry,” he says on an exhale, and immediately Harry's shoulders drop, and he's looking down at the floor and just looks generally dejected. “Haz, wait-”

“It's - it's okay, Ni, had a feeling this would be your answer,” he says, and Niall is so endlessly frustrated with him sometimes, much more often than he really would admit, and he comes forward, and grips his hips tightly, pulling him towards him easily.

Harry lets out a small squeak, and Niall just grips him harder, stares right into his eyes. “Stop making up answers for me. You really are the weirdest.”

He grabs his face, reels him in and kisses him hard. He feels Harry flail a bit, and he deepens it further, sliding his tongue into his mouth, and it doesn’t take long before he’s relaxing into it, his weirdly cold hands grasping the expanse of his back, feeling up the muscle, and their bodies are flush together. 

There’s not as much hair on Harry’s head to pull on, but he does with what he can, and he accepts the long moan into his mouth, mumbles and pleads following to do it again, and he does as he’s asked. Harry slides his hands under the waistband of his joggers, and palms over his ass, and Niall groans as he pushes back against the touch.

“Your dog is terrified,” Harry mutters as he wrestles with his coat, his top, and when Niall glances over to Ace, sure enough, he’s got his paws over his eyes, and Niall’s sure he’s just trying to wipe off something off his face, maybe a fly, but the image is precious. 

“He’ll live,” Niall says, bare chests pressed together and he’s trying to pull off Harry’s belt, difficult since Harry’s sucking a mark on his neck.

Of all the ways he’d thought this would go, he certainly hadn’t considered that he’d end up in the lounge, bent over his coffee table and gasping as Harry lowers his pants, fabric dragging over his arse, and almost immediately he feels his mouth hover over his rim, hot breath fanning over the entrance and he shivers, knuckles gone white as he grips on to the edges of the table.

He yells hoarsely at the first touch of the tongue on his arse, throwing his head back as Harry licks carefully around the rim, then dipping in, slowly, until his face is right in there and his tongue fully inside him.

“Shit, shit  _ fuck,”  _ he moans, whimpering as he's licked out, the tongue in his arse fucking in and out and curling perfectly into him. His half-hard cock gets painfully stiff very fast, and Niall's sweating profusely at how hot it makes him, getting the surface of his table filthy and wet as he's eaten out.

He shoves back into Harry's face, and for his troubles Harry gets his hands on his cheeks, spreading him so he can get in deeper, and Niall just relaxes around him, accepts everything he's given as he's opened up by his tongue, and then fingers alongside, one after the other.

He's not quite sure where Harry had gotten the lube, or the condom, but regardless. He's still bent over the table, arse hitched up even more as Harry kneels behind him and holds his hips, hard and toned now, as he pushes the head of his cock in slowly. Niall rests the side of his face on the table’s surface, tries in vain to let it cool him, somewhat, as his arse is filled carefully until he's full up and feels Harry's balls pressed right up against his arse.

“Oh, fucking -  _ Niall,  _ fuck, you're tight,” Harry says, breathes really, his hands either on his hip, or sweeping across his sweaty back, and Niall can't breathe. Feels like it's too much, and it's incredible. “So tight around me.”

“God, why the fuck aren't you moving,” he hisses, reaches back to try to grab Harry's arse, but the angle is shit. Harry listens, though, and he's pushing down on the small of his back, and pulls out until just the tip is in, and rams back in hard. He gets a hard, moderate pace going, rough thrusts into Niall's hole, pounding into his arse and the thin skin of his hips slapping against his bum. Niall is sure they're both getting bruised, and the thought is delicious. 

“Hmmm, harder,” he hums, and Harry complies as best as he can, alternating quick hammering thrusts and languid rolls of his hips fucking into him, hitting every right spot and making his toes curl, making him see spots and his own erection leak everywhere. “God, fucking fuck. Uh,  _ uh, oh shit _ .”

“Niall,” Harry cries behind him, pushing in even faster and he makes these noises, sobs as he fucks him. “Fuck.”

“Harry,” Niall whimpers, his arse clenching and squeezing around him, taking everything and he wants even more. “Come on, I know you're almost there.”

“Oh god,  _ oh god,”  _ he whines, body tipping forward and he rests his forehead on the top of Niall's spine, leaning forward as he fucks in without any real precision, and it's the way Niall loves to fuck. Hard and quick and desperate. 

He comes loudly, yelling and going even wilder on his arse as he wrings out the last of it into the condom, and he's not even finished when he gets a hand around Niall, few pulls and he never stood a chance. Niall hits his high a moment after, though much less quietly, not any less intensely, barely missing the table and spilling all over the floor.

He’s barely done when Harry grabs at him, holds him as he turns him over and flops on top of him, and Niall would be bothered, because the floor isn’t all that great for his back, but when Harry is kissing him frantically, getting his hands everywhere and rolling around in every good feeling, he doesn’t mind as much as he really should.

.

When he arrives on set a little before half two, Andy’s eyes becomes slits almost immediately when he sees the purpling mark Harry had left there. Niall is forced onto his trailer, on his chair and he’s attached with makeup and a tirade.

“Well, shit,” Saoirse is coming in just as Andy had stopped berating him, though steam is still coming out of his ears as he layers up the makeup on his throat. Barbara follows her inside, and they’re both in costume, though uncomfortable shoes switched out for Uggs and padded coats for warmth cover their bodies. “Who tried to eat you?”

Niall’s face burns, her words too right for their own good, and Andy tuts about his ruddy complexion, finishing up on his makeup and muttering as he leaves the trailer.

“Um,” he says, gestures with his hands and tries not to let his cheeks redden too much, distracts himself by getting into his suit. 

“Oh my goodness, Niall, it’s all over you,” Barbara says, her eyes widening when Niall strips off his shirt and reveals that he’s got love bites all over his torso, and bruises on his hips from where he’d been held just that morning. 

“It’s nothing,” he says, though his face is burning as they turn away as he takes off the rest of his clothes, and pants up. “I mean. It’s not so bad.”

Saoirse considers him, watches him silently as he pulls on the muscle shirt and buttons up the top of his suit, and she asks simply, “So you had a one night stand with your best friend, is what you’re telling us is nothing?”

Niall almost falls over as he reaches for his cape, and he’s not quite sure, but he has a feeling his skin is as red as his dark burgundy suit. 

“It wasn’t a one night stand,” he says, and Barbara makes a surprised little noise. Saoirse doesn’t react much, and he goes on to add, “Harry’s at home. He, um. He’s sleeping off the travelling and everything. Ace is keeping him company.”

“This isn’t quite what I pictured when I told you to figure this out,” Saoirse says. “Niall, be careful, alright?”

“I know,” he says, getting his mask on. He thinks, then, “Do you think this is a bad idea?”

“Like I told you,” she says, “We don't know him like you do. You have to do what you think is good for the both of you.”

“I'm not so sure if I know him as well anymore,” Niall tells them honestly, and it's probably the first time he's said it out loud. “I really care about him, you know that. But he's different now.”

“Well, then you'll have to be even more careful,” Barbara tells him. “What you two do, that's your business. But it won't be easy.”

“I know that,” he says, and his mind drifts off to the boy in his bed, resting and waiting for him to come back.

They come out of the trailer together, silly gaggle of superheroes in coats and ugly comfy shoes, and it’s then that Barbara mentions, “You’re surprisingly calm about everything.”

“Well, I don’t know. Sometimes, he's the only thing keeping me sane, but a lot of the time, he's the one driving me mad-”

“No, not that,” she says, sounding slightly alarmed, and Saoirse laughs.

“You’ve kept your phone off, have you?” she says, still laughing as she grabs Barbara’s hand and they go on ahead so they can get a bit of a touchup. 

Niall blinks after them, and turns his phone on, and dies a bit inside at the insane amount of missed calls and messages, most of them from Ciara, who’s level of franticness had only increased with each call and each text. 

She’s been beyond angry when he’d called her, and just went on the second tirade he’s received today, and he sees that he’d got messages from Louis and Liam as well, but he checks out the new link she’d sent along with a verbalized huff, and his chokes on his spit when he reads the headline.

**_New Super Tandem: Niall Horan and Saoirse Ronan Kiss at Harry Styles’ After Party_ **

**_‘They looked very cozy the entire night, just talking and staying away from the rest of the party.’_ **

_ By Nick Maslow for People.com _

“Ah, shit,” he groans, and sure enough, there is a photograph, though very blurry, but it’s definitely them, and he’s going to give Jeff an earful about his shit guests. Should he choose to even speak to him. He wonders how no one had thought to give up what had happened between him and Harry, but he figures this is less complicated, at least. Just shows how he gives no shits about Niall, but will go to the ends of the earth for his star client. 

**_Niall Horan_ ** _ , one-fourth of Anglo-Irish band  _ **_One Direction_ ** _ , and Academy Award-nominee  _ **_Saoirse Ronan_ ** _ were seen kissing last night at an after party celebrating the just concluded LA leg of Horan’s bandmate  _ **_Harry Styles_ ** _ ’ solo concert tour, held at the home of  _ **_Jeff Azoff_ ** _ , Styles’ manager. _

_ “They looked very cozy the entire night, just talking and staying away from the rest of the party,” says a source for People. “They were standing very close and she left earlier than he had, but not before giving him a goodnight kiss.” _

_ Horan, 24, and Ronan, 23, are co-starring in  _ **_Warner Brothers_ ** _ and  _ **_DC_ ** _ ’s upcoming  _ **_The Teen Titans_ ** _ , playing Robin, otherwise known as Dick Grayson, and Raven respectively. _

_ Previous articles report that Horan and ex-girlfriend and current co-star, model  _ **_Barbara Palvin_ ** _ , who plays opposite the pair as Starfire, Robin’s canonical love interest, were giving their failed relationship another go, but sources say that this attempt hadn’t panned out as well as they would have liked.  _

_ “It didn’t work,” a source close to the cast said, “but they care about each other very much. They’re still friends, and she’s all for Niall and Saoirse.” _

_ With his ex’s blessing and approval, Horan and Ronan are likely to develop their relationship further. _

“Well, this is shit,” he calls Ciara back, and she’s still fuming about him not paying any sort of attention to his phone for the last 24 hours. “It’s not true. I mean, yeah, we kissed, but that’s nothing. We’re not dating.”

_ “I know you’re not, you twat,”  _ she snaps at him.  _ “But you’ve got to be careful, people will say anything and believe anything. It’s not smart to go kissing someone you’re not dating, even if it’s just friendly.” _

“Right,” he says, doesn’t mention that he and Harry have done considerably much more than kiss, and he’s not quite sure if they’re technically dating. He’s not sure in any sense except that he’s definitely not hooking up with Saoirse or Barbara, but definitely hooking up with his bandmate. “Okay, noted.”

_ “Please, please reel in your weird PDA for friends until I can reel this in,”  _ she says, and Niall stays quiet as she goes on about calling his publicist and the PR for the film and whatever. He understands everything, but he doesn’t listen for long, and he’s being called to set and he has scenes to film and he still can’t get his mind off of Harry.

By the time he drives home a bit after eleven, he's famished and tired and a bit snappish. When he lets himself in, however, he blinks at the brightness of the kitchen, drawn to it immediately, and Harry’s sitting by the island, barechested and he’s borrowed a pair of Niall’s joggers.

“Oh, you’re back,” Harry says once he realizes he’s there, staring at the scene. He’s feeding Ace as well, bits of bread and whatever straight from his palm, and Niall just blinks even more. “I don’t know if you ate, but, um, I made some bread pudding? You had some stale croissants, so. I hope it’s okay, but we can order in something if you’d like-”

“No, no. Pudding’s great,” he says, and he realizes that his chest hurts slightly, feeling tight and making him feel stupidly emotional, really touched. “You waited for me.”

“I thought you might be hungry,” he says. “I was too, after long days.”

Niall takes the seat next to him, and Harry pushes a bowl of pudding towards him, and. He’s really not sure on how to act around him, and he should have known that just because you’ve shagged doesn’t mean everything will just fall to place. Feels like everything’s just gotten more confusing and more jumbled up. 

Harry brings him out of his stupor, kisses him softly at the corner of his mouth, and he stares at him, his eyes wide. Harry looks back, a little shyly, but he clears his throat, says, “Do you think we need to talk about this?”

Niall breathes. Reaches up to play with a loose, short curl hanging by his face, says, “What do you want to do?”

“I want to try,” Harry repeats himself from early that morning, and Niall sighs internally, because that doesn’t clear anything up, certainly doesn’t tell him what it is he wants to try.

“You’re going to have to be more specific, Haz,” he says gently, and Harry’s the one who blinks at him this time. For all the time he’s known him to be so sure of himself and confident and really just so himself, Niall’s never seen him look so vulnerable, which says something. He’d like to think that Harry only shows his softer side to the people who really matter, and the way he sees him now. He doesn’t quite know who else had ever seen him this way. Sex Styles and Soft Styles are two very different kinds of Harry.

“I don’t know,” he says quietly, “I don’t know exactly. I’m sorry. I just. I want something different, with you. Is it okay if we just, try?”

He doesn’t really know how to feel about that. Something of an experiment, or. He doesn’t know, really. But Harry’s looking at him nervously, and he looks younger than he really is. It's not like Niall's ever forgotten that he was the youngest out of all of them, though Niall, to his irritation oftentimes, would be babied the most. But with the way Harry's into the strangest old vintage shit, with the company he keeps, his general demeanor, he just seems older than he is. It's jarring to be reminded that he is younger than him, especially now. 

Niall sighs, then stabs at his bread pudding, and offers Harry the first forkful though he has a portion of his own sitting right in front of him. He blinks, Bambi eyes and charm, and Niall says on an exhale, “Alright. We can try.”

Harry blinks again, and slowly, a smile turns up on his face, lifting the corners of his mouth slightly and he leans forward, accepts the little morsel, and he asks, “So, how was shooting today?”

It feels much more normal than Niall had anticipated. Eating a sweet dessert dinner of fancy croissant pudding, talking about their respective days, as Ace sits patiently beside them, accepting little chunks of food as they go along. He thinks it's because it's Harry, and he just knows him so well, or at least used to. He doesn't know if he personally had changed a lot, but if he does, Harry doesn't show any indication of him observing it.

It seems natural to pulls him into a heavy snogging session as they're finishing up the washing, and he backs Harry to the counter and holds his neck down and then slides his hands into the joggers and pulls him off, his hands soapy but neither of them really care. 

Seems just as natural to be having sex, in his room finally, seems almost like coming home when he hears Harry moan as he dicks into him, feels too right when Harry's arse just opens up around him as he rolls in slow and languid. Definitely not very smart, because he has to be on set before eight, but it feels amazing, incredible and just where they're supposed to be. Almost.

.

Life goes on, as he really should have expected, but it surprises him anyway. 

He goes to work, does his absolute best, hopes it's enough, but everyday, he starts appreciating the work more, loving it and he doesn't want to assume, but regardless of his presence, this was going to be special. Saoirse is amazing, John is amazing, Dylan is amazing, Barbara is amazing. Liam Neeson makes him want to melt his face off in the best sense of the phrase. Drew and Jonathan and when he's there Christopher are just amazing and he's learning so much, and it's an incredible experience. 

He's not doing badly at home either. Harry's full aware that he has a place of his own in the area, bigger and fancier and posher and definitely more expensive, but he's not made any move to stay there while on break from tour. He chooses instead to lounge around while Niall goes to work, bakes on occasion and orders them something for dinner more often, and Niall goes to bed always sated and his brain orgasm-addled, Ace finding his way to bed after they’ve finished, either lying at their feet, but lately, he’s been more likely to squeeze his way between them and just cuddle. Either way.

“Do you think I could visit you?” Harry asks him one night as they’re eating Thai takeaway in the lounge, Ace flopped across both their laps. “If that’s alright.”

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t see why not,” Niall says, fighting with his chopsticks as he tries to shove in some Pad Thai into his mouth. “But, um. I think you ought to know that the girls figured us out.”

“Oh,” he says, and he sounds a bit surprised, but not alarmed. “Okay. Um, is it, I mean-”

“You’re the only person I’m doing anything with, if that’s what you’re asking,” he says, and Harry doesn’t turn quite red, his skin too tanned for it, but he does go flush. “Whatever you’ve been hearing, not true, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Harry says, and Niall can’t quite help but put down his food, pull him in for a soft kiss. “Okay, sorry-”

“It’s fine,” Niall tells him, and he pokes at his cheek, near the corner of his mouth, until Harry finally concedes and smiles, the dimple appearing and his finger sinks into the crevice of it. He comes forward to lick at it cheerfully, and Harry laughs, and it’s maybe the most relaxed he’s been the past week, which is really saying something, because this might be the most relaxed he’s seen Harry in the seven years they’ve known each other. 

“Why don’t you just tell him to not mark you there?” Barbara asks him a few days later, and he’s careful not to move as Andy covers up the fresh lovebite Harry had left the night before, otherwise he’d just give him another reason to get short with him again.

He’s already withering under the very sharp gaze he’s being given, and he tells her, “I do. He just, I guess, forgets. In the heat of the moment. I’m much worse on him.”

“Unbelievable,” Andy hisses, bringing out a sponge and he piles on the concealer on the bite.

“I don’t think I needed to hear that, but alright,” Dylan comes by, already greened up and ready to shoot. “You said he was coming over, didn’t you?”

“He didn’t say when,” Niall tells them, and he lets out the smallest yep when Chrissy sprays at him, his hair already falling from the unexpected heat today. Harry hadn’t told him when, exactly he’d wanted to come, but it’s been a few days since he’d mentioned it, and Niall would hope it to be soon, but Harry had finally gone out of the house, gone to his own place to get more of his own clothing, and he’ll be going to a party Cindy Crawford’s husband is throwing tonight. First night since he’s been here that he won’t be spending holed up in Niall’s rented out house. 

“You’ve been very springy,” Dylan remarks, and he sighs to himself, because of course, Dylan’s figured him out as well. “Like, in a good way. The bruise you gave me’s turning yellow now, it’s great.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Niall winces at the memory, just the day after Harry had brought up visiting the set, when he’d done a stunt too well and Dylan wasn’t very prepared and received an accidental knee to his side. Niall had thought he’d broken his ribs, and felt awful the entire day. “You have to be more careful when you’re filming shit.”

“Ah, I never learn,” he says with a beam, and the mood’s immediately lifted in the weirdest way. “In any case, I hope this thing works out. You’ve been really happy. Not that you weren’t happy before, but being in love does something else to you, doesn’t it?”   
“I, I never said,” Niall turns crimson, but Dylan leaves before he says anything, when he wiped the green paint off of his nose by accident, but it’s not like he can finish the thought in the first place. “I. Fuck.”

“Oh, Niall,” Barbara sighs, and he just blinks, and he feels very foolish and weird, and they’re being called to set by by the AD’s, and he tries to leave the thought out of his head, as he has a demonic villain to fuck up.

It’s a few days after that when he gets the call sheet for the next shooting day, and he honestly hopes that Harry doesn’t choose to come by then. Description says:  _ ‘Starfire introduced. Kisses Robin to learn the English language.’  _ Furthermore, a bit of a footnote by their twat of an assistant director Miles, saying, _ ‘[Hi Ni and B. One of the most famous kisses in DC history. No pressure.]’  _ A real twat.

Of course, that’s when Harry does come, parking his stupidly expensive vintage car in the lot and getting looks the moment he drives into the studios, and Niall groans when he sees him arrive, sky already dark for a shoot they predict will last until dawn the next day.

“Well, he’s going to have an interesting day,” John remarks, sipping at his coffee as the prosthetic robot eye is being attached to his face. “You too, mate.”

“Ah, fuck me,” he says, chooses to ignore John’s followup comment of  _ “Just don’t do it in front of us!”,  _ and Harry’s introducing himself to the crew members he passes by with firm handshakes and smiles, and Niall kind of wants to die. 

Harry doesn't say anything when he finally sees him, just smiles and embraces him tightly, his neck the perfect place to just tuck his face into. 

“You look good,” he tells him when they part slightly, his eyes bright with his emotions. 

Niall snorts, “I haven't even begun getting ready, you idiot.”

He walks them over to his trailer, and Harry is chatty today, shares bits and anecdotes of his own experiences on a film set, little tidbits of the party he’d gone to, amongst other things, in that same sort of snail pace that Niall hadn’t just grown accustomed to, but maybe rather pathetically attached. He drones on as Niall listens, getting his makeup done for the day and then when he’s suiting up is when Harry goes quiet.

“Haz?” he prods, just as he’s put on his mask and Harry hasn’t spoken for a good few minutes. “Is something wrong?”

Harry looks up, blinking with his Bambi eyes, and says, “Huh?”

“You’ve been quiet,” he says, a bit cautiously.

“Just, just thinking,” he answers, and he can’t stop staring at him, so much so it makes Niall very self-conscious.

They both go down to the set, cityscape, dark and grungy and it’s a bit of a light action sequence, and Drew briefs the five of them and Harry watches on, engaging in some conversation with Jonathan, and it doesn’t exactly surprise Niall that they know each other, since Harry had worked with the older Nolan brother the year before, but still. It disarms him a bit, but anyway.

Scene setup, sometime after midnight or thereabouts. Focus of the sequence is on Starfire, her introduction to the film as an otherworldly princess from a planet far away who currently speaks no English, and who’d been taken captive by some other alien race, it’s very confusing, and she manages to escape the ship that had held her prisoner because of her superhuman abilities and energy blasts and whatnot and landed on Earth, only to wreak havoc on the city as she tries to free herself from the bonds keeping her wrists together.

It’s mostly Barbara for the first part, focus on her, and when she starts destroying everything in her path, not that she really intended to, but still, then a bit of a cut away to where Robin is alone, dealing with some thief, then he notices the havoc she’s causing, then they proceed to engage in combat, but he eventually realizes he’s not strong enough to do it on his own. Cue Raven, whom Dick had previously denied helping in a yet to be filmed scene, wherein she first approaches him on his first outing as a solo hero and asks for his help to defeat her father. Then Beast Boy and Cyborg come into play, both of whom are already on board to help Raven on her endeavor.

It’s a long shoot, made more arduous by the fact that it’s close to midnight by the time everyone else gets to film, and they’ve got at least another six hours to go. Harry doesn’t make any indication that he’ll go on ahead back to Niall’s place, though. He’d waited patiently, chatting with everyone and Niall sits next to him on his cast chair, and they go about their usual conversations, and Niall won’t stop taking the shit out of him, just as they usually are. Harry looks at him the same way he had since he’d first put on the suit hours earlier, though, and Niall doesn’t know why really, until he realizes. He’s got an idea, sees the almost hungry look he’s got in his eyes, but he doesn’t want to assume. Can’t quite lie that the thought, the idea he’s got, makes him go a bit hard in his stupidly tight spandex costume, making him hope desperately that it’s not obvious. 

He’s called into the scene, and he goes to work. Goes through the rehearsed, choreographed motions of aiming kicks and spinning his bo staff and dodging her advances, and he hasn’t stopped getting surprised at how his stamina had improved so vastly, not that it was bad before, but he does around five takes of the same sequence and he still feels up for a bit more, but he knows this will all make him just drop as soon as they’re done here. 

“You’re doing amazing,” he tells Barbara as soon as they’re called for a cut and the crew is moving about to get ready to move on to the next shot, wherein the other three come in, and they’re setting up for the scene. “How are you feeling?”

“This costume is so shit,” she says, and he laughs. “But it makes me look super cool, so it’s fine. And your boy seems to be enjoying himself, won’t stop staring at you.”

“I’m not all that interesting,” he mumbles, and she gives him the nicest snort he’s ever heard.

“I wonder how he’ll feel when he watches us kiss,” she says lightly, and Niall kind of chokes on his breath. “Do you think he’ll be alright with that?”

“I, uh. I don’t know,” he says, “haven’t exactly told him.”

She sighs when he tells her, and she’s shaking her head. “Well, if it makes him feel any better, it’s not a romantic sort of kiss, even in the movie’s context.”

“He’ll be fine,” he says, then he glances back to where Harry is standing just a ways off behind the cameras, talking to Sal and Andrew and being the way he is. Kind, always nice, but never really revealing anything. “He should be.”

“Well, you better do some explaining either way,” she says, and Niall thinks about it. He doesn’t think it’d be likely for Harry to get stroppy over him not telling him that he has to kiss his ex for work, and then the actual thought actually runs through his mind, and he realizes how stupid he is.

“Ay, fuck me,” he mutters to himself, and he’s being called back to scene, and the thought is hard to shake off, even as he’s doing his stunts.

In the home stretch for the day, about four in the morning, and everyone is tired and the Titans are stiff but Harry hasn't left yet, though a good number of the production staff, including Jonathan, had gone home hours before. He sits on Niall's chair and watches patiently, and during breaks he's talking to the other crew members who aren't terribly busy, partaking of the coffee and refreshments laid out for everyone. Niall is slightly thankful there's no coconut oil around for him to make his awful coffee from hell. 

He's saved from having to explain this whole completely unromantic kissing situation right at the moment when the sun begins to set a very pale glow to the landscape, and Drew deems with reluctance that it's much too bright to continue filming, and lets everyone off for the day until later that night. It's not like they're making bad time, but they'd been depending on a longer period of dark sky for this sequence, and it's just not going to happen all in one shooting day, optimistic though they'd all been. 

He says his goodbyes for the day, and he and Harry walk their way back to his trailer in comfortable silence, until Harry locks the door behind them.

It doesn't surprise him in the least when Harry comes forward, grabs his face and kisses him hard, and he grunts into his mouth. “Let me change first.”

“No,” he murmurs, licking in and tangling their tongues together. “This suit. Fuck me.”

“I'm not fucking you with this on, they'll have my head,” he says, though his willpower isn't all that great, and Harry just feels him up everywhere. “Haz.”

“You're so good,” he says, and he moves back just enough so he can peel off the mask, and dives back in. “I knew you would be. But seeing it, you're so good.”

“Harry,” he breathes, and it's past five in the morning, and they should be going home, wherever that is. But Harry's unbuttoning his shirt and his hands are scrambling with his costume, not quite sure how it's put in or taken off, but just touches him everywhere, making it extremely difficult to focus. “Shit. Harry, hold on-”

“Can you do your voice?” he says, and Niall thinks he might have lost his mind a little.

“You're off your head-”

He doesn't let him finish, kisses him again and gets rid of his belt. “That accent.”

“It's not that great.”

_ “You're  _ the one off your head,” Harry scoffs at him, making a small triumphant noise when he figures out the cape, and manages to get it off him. “Please.”

“Haz,” he says, holding him by the hips and squeezing at the laurels. “Come on.”

_ “You  _ come on,” he says petulantly, and Niall laughs against his lips.

“You are, quite literally, the weirdest,” he says, concedes and says it in his Robin voice, and Harry moans a bit before attaching their lips again. He keeps mumbling for him to keep on talking, and Niall doesn't know what the fuck he's supposed to say, but he acquiesces anyway, “Let me take off my suit-”

Harry moans again, and Niall's backing him up to the vanity, until he's standing between Harry's legs and he's instructing him quietly on how to remove his costume, one piece at a time. 

Strangest foreplay/dirty talk he's ever had, but by the way he just seems to get harder at the way Harry goes wonton under his hands and vaguely gypsy-like accent, he knows it doesn't really bother him all that much. Getting naked is a bit of a fun ordeal, and Harry's panting, rubbing off on him even before his pants are even properly removed. 

“Turn around, want you to see yourself,” he says, still in the fucking accent, but Harry complies immediately with another loud moan, and his hips dig on to the wood of the very narrow table, and Niall looks up then at their reflection. He lets out a bit of a moan himself, shoving forward and pressing Harry further when he sees Harry's sweaty, flushed body, chest heaving as he waits for Niall to do  _ something,  _ and he's so hot and he might just lose his mind if he's not inside him soon. 

He watches his slicked up fingers go in him, one by one, and he has to hold Harry's shoulder from flopping over as he opens his arse for his cock. Then Harry's begging so prettily, voice breathy and arching his body and bringing his ass up, and Niall is only so strong. 

He watches Harry's face on the mirror on the first push in, watches his face go slack and his head tilt back, eyes closed and mouth dropping in a long moan, and it makes Niall moan in turn, shoving the last bit in without really meaning to. Harry's jostled up a bit, letting out a little yelp, that immediately turns into another moan that's just making him lose his mind as he lets Harry adjust to his length.

“Ni,” he breathes, reaching back his hand to grab at his hip, urging him. Niall complies, leaves apprehension and any plans for a leisurely pace behind, and he pulls out and rams back into his arse. Then he pulls out slightly again, and shoves back in even harder, even faster, slightly rougher, and it takes no time at all before he's just fucking Harry at this pace, a bit wild and relentless and it sets his blood on fire in the best way.

“Taking me so well,” he hisses into his ear, and he's sure he hears Harry sob a little when he says it in his Robin voice, his arse just clenching tighter around him, his erection, red and stiff and leaking as it's pressed up against the edge of the small table. 

He drives his cock in, harder and he's pounding him within an inch of his life, a stupid passing panic of  _ “Is the trailer shaking?”  _ runs through his mind, when he realizes just how hard he's fucking Harry, but all concerns just disappear and melt into his brain when Harry leans forward slightly, gasping as his dick goes on shoving into him, and he reaches back with his hands and spreads himself open for Niall, and he absolutely cannot not watch himself plunging in and out of his hole. 

“Minx,” he says lightly, goes as fast as he can and the mirror’s fogging up slightly where their collective breaths make contact with it in the most ridiculous way and he doesn't think that's possible but who fucking cares. He and Harry are shaking together as they fuck, moaning and yelling as they get close to coming, just right on the edge of it.  

“Fuck,” Harry sighs, straightening up, and he cranes his neck back, dropping his head back on Niall's shoulder, and just moves up and down on his cock, eyes closed in bliss. He barely gets a hand around himself when he yelps again, shooting his come from the tip and it lands on the tables surface, on his hand, and some drops even splatter the mirror. 

“Hmmm,” he hums, his body trembling slightly in aftershocks, but his eyes are still closed and he turns his head a bit to nuzzle Niall's cheek, and he's pumping his hips a bit, squeezing his arse around him, and Niall can't hold it.

“God,  _ fuck,”  _ he says, can't do it in the stupid fucking accent anymore, but he doesn't think anyone is disappointed, not when he loses control and just  _ fucks _ Harry madly for a few moments, wrapping his arms around him and holding him tight and it's so intense. Intense enough that he falls forward, bringing Harry along with him, and they lean against the mirror, breathing fogging up the glass as he spills into the condom, and then. Calm. 

“Keep -  _ god. _ Keep that costume, find a way,” Harry says, and Niall is chuckling slowly before it turns into pained, pleasured grunts when Harry circles his hips, his cock still lodged inside his arse and making it twitch with interest again, much too soon. 

.

He considers it a miracle of some sort no one’s got the energy to tease them or anything when they make to leave a bit later on, and they both drive back to his place, and it's just then does the no-sleep-thing get to them. They stalk sleepily up the stairs to his room, Ace trotting up behind them obediently, and they're barely awake enough to take off their clothes. They flop down to the bed, and they're asleep before they even really realize.

They wake up mid-afternoon, tangled together and mouths stupidly close together, open and breathing into one another. It's kind of gross, but when Niall tries to roll away, Harry just wraps his long limbs around him and pulls them back together and gets the covers around them to snuggle, like a weird boy band burrito. Only when Ace struggles to squeeze his way between them, tries to furrow between their bodies to make the burrito a sandwich, do they get up, their limbs heavy with sleep and their brains a far way from being really awake.

He makes them a really lazy late lunch/pre-supper of chorizo and scallops, and he and Harry just eat straight out of the pan, trading bites and giving Ace bits here and there, and that dog is really too well fed for his own good.

“But he is a fit dog,” Harry says when Niall mentions it later on, and they're both sprawled on the floor of the lounge, Ace on his back and rolling around as Harry rubs his belly, his tongue lolling out. “Like, never seen such a handsome pup in my life. He should be very proud.”

“You're such a twat,” Niall snorts, watching as Harry bends his head down to nuzzle his face, and Ace, idiot dog that he loves so much, licks back and loves being loved. He doesn't know whether he should be pleased or not when he sees so much of Harry in his dog.

“Do you think he gets lonely, though?” Harry asks, the most serious, concerned look on his face, and Niall just blinks at him, not doubting his sincerity, but maybe his sanity. “Like, when you're not here. When I'm not here. Felt bad that I left him here yesterday.”

“You're such a twat,” Niall just repeats, and Harry pouts at him.

“You don't deserve this beautiful creature,” Harry tells him, embracing Ace fully.

“Ace,” Niall calls, and immediately, he wriggles out of Harry's hold and trots over to Niall, settling easily on top of his lap, tail flicking happily as he's scratched behind his ears. “See? Still likes me better. Ha.”

Harry frowns at them both, but when he holds his hand out, Ace leans his head up, and nuzzles his nose on Harry's palm. “Yay.”

“Twat,” Niall just says again, and Harry gets up on his knees and comes forward to kiss him soundly, and Niall smirks against his lips. “Alright, alright.”

“But really,” he says, coming to sit next to them and looking genuinely contemplative. “Like, do you think he needs a friend around? Like, canine needs a canine? Maybe a female friend to make things less lonely - or a male, don't mean to be prejudiced or anything, but I just thought, since we’re all, like, guys here-”

“Harry, Jesus Christ,” he sighs, shaking his head, and Ace makes a confused, contented noise as they rub him all over. 

“No, but really,” he just keeps on going, “like, Ace needs a Melissa Robinson, to keep him company-”

“Melissa Robinson?” Niall deadpans, thinks he has an idea of what he means, but he hopes he's wrong. “Like, as in, Ace Ventura’s Melissa Robinson. Courtney Cox.”

“Or Ann Cusack, no prejudice,” he says, so so seriously, and Niall is exhausted. “Ace needs a lovely companion, maybe to cuddle with when we can't,” he says, and Niall pauses. Freezes, absolutely, when Harry says, “Maybe, should they like each other, maybe even kiss on occasion. Like, cute dog kisses, like Simba and Nala, but for, like dogs.”

“You are so weird, I cannot believe,” he breathes, and Harry beams at him, dimples on full display, and he sighs to himself, because he can't just do this without telling him. “Okay, I need to tell you something, and I'm not asking you to be okay with it completely, but try to understand.”

“O-okay,” he stammers a bit, and he moves his body slightly when Niall lays his hands in his thighs gently to get him moving, so they're facing each other a bit more properly. “Um, what is it?”

“Well, last night, Barbara and I, well, we were supposed to shoot a kiss,” he says, straight to the point, and Harry stiffens up slightly, but not to the point where he's actually frozen. Good sign, he hopes. “And we'll probably be doing it later tonight. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner.”

“Were you just hoping to not tell me?” Harry says, and Niall knows he's being careful to keep his voice neutral, but he knows him too well. He hears the bit of hurt in his tone anyway. 

“No, Haz,” he says, “I just didn't know how to tell you. Or if it mattered.”

“Of course it matters to me, I know I never said, but you're the only person I'm doing anything with, either,” he says, and Niall knows he hears a sniff. He's not doing much to hide the hurt in his voice now, either. “And she’s special to you, too. I, I mean. Of course it matters.”

“Oh, Harry. I'm sorry, really,” he says, chooses not to excuse himself. He holds his thigh gently, and he's slightly relieved when Harry doesn't move his hand away.

“I mean, I understand,” he says. “I get that it's for work, and I know I shouldn't get jealous or anything. But it's Barbara, and I just. I just hope I have no reason to be jealous.”

“Of course not, you really have no reason to be,” he says, and Harry sniffs again, will probably blame it on a cold of sorts later on. “I promise. It's not the least bit romantic, either. Mostly, just, um. For learning.”

“What?” Harry says, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and admittedly, it had confused Niall at first, too. 

“Uh, that is,” he starts, trying to figure out the clearest way to explain, “Starfire, she kisses Robin to, um, to learn? Her race uses mouth to mouth action to transfer information, so. She kisses Robin to learn English, basically. Just to be able to tell him to stay away from her. So. Yes.” 

Harry stares at him for several moments, blinks only a few times, and Niall tries to read the look on his face, but Harry doesn't give. Then, “That's weird.”

“Well,” Niall shrugs, but Harry  _ does  _ relax the slightest bit, but he still looks unsure, and Niall completely understands. “I promise, it doesn't mean anything.”

“Transfer information by kissing, you said?” He muses, and Niall doesn't know what he means to accomplish by asking, but he nods anyway. “So, technically anything?”

“Ay, Haz, I don't know,” he says, and Harry smiles a bit, instant calmer. 

“So, if I were to kiss you in that context,” he says, and he's actually thinking seriously. Niall knows when he's shitting it, and he definitely isn't now. “I wonder. Would I still be able to get anything - no, dumb question, I'd  _ definitely  _ still learn something new about you, you're so shady.”

“I've got nothing on you, though,” he says, but he's smiling. “I don't know. I quite like human kissing much better. It, um. It means more.”

He doesn't mean to blush, but he does anyway, his complexion reddening rapidly and Harry blinks at him. Then his own face is flushed, and he just pulls him in and snogs him, the way Niall knows he just wants to show the world, or maybe just Barbara, that he's the only one who can. 

He stays relatively calm for the next few hours, but as Niall is driving them to the set, Harry's gripping his thigh in the front seat and Ace whining in the back, and Niall just knows he's slowly losing his cool. 

It's confirmed when they're walking to sound stage after he'd gotten his wardrobe on, and Harry had walked behind him, close but still separate, and he'd been so quiet. 

“Haz?” he turns back to look at him, and he’s got this nervous look on his face. “Harry.”

“I’m fine,” he says, though Niall hadn’t even asked him anything. “Just. I’m fine. I’m okay.”

“Such a shit liar,” he sighs, and he tries to hold his hands, but Harry takes his back almost immediately, looking around them worriedly. Niall’s eyes soften when he watches him, and there are a lot of people around, knows that this might be a bit dangerous, and they’ve got to have some sort of boundary. But. “Harry? Do you not, um. You don’t want to?”

“No, no,” he shakes his head, but Niall just gets more confused. “I’m sorry. I’m not - I’m not trying to be difficult or anything.”

“You’re not,” he says, and he tries for his forearm instead. He doesn’t shake him off, and it’s something in the very least. “Just. Tell me what’s wrong? Before something happens?”

Harry looks at him, and he kind of wishes he wasn’t already wearing his mask. His expression is clearly apprehensive and a little sad, though he’s doing his utmost to not show it.

“She saw your dick before I did,” is what Harry spouts out, and Niall isn’t surprised to hear it from him in the least, but it’s not quite what he expected at that moment, either. “I mean,  _ I’d  _ seen your dick like, maybe, hundreds of times by the time you two had your thing, but not, like, for sexy reasons. She got to do all that sort of stuff with you before me, and you’ve got history - shit.”

“But we’re just friends now,” he says, and he wishes Harry wouldn’t doubt him so much. “Harry, it’s just a kiss.”

“But you just said human kisses mean more,” Harry says maybe just the touch bit petulantly, and it makes Niall sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m just not looking forward to having to watch this.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Of course I have to, Niall,” he scoffs, and Niall snorts back at him. “Have to make sure. Not that I don’t trust either of you. Just, I just have to make sure.”

Niall looks at him for a moment, then he goes to hold his hand properly, this time around. He doesn’t move away again, and his fingers even curl into his palm, and they’re holding each other’s hands. He might have to go to Andy to get a touchup, but he pries the mask off his face so he can face him properly. 

He knows Harry doesn’t expect the kiss he gives him, feels him jump slightly as his lips meet his, and he pushes him away almost immediately, goes looking around them again to see if anyone had been watching.

When he looks back at him, Niall stands his ground, meets his questioning, confused gaze with understanding and so much affection he feels like it should be bleeding out of him.

“Ni?” he says quietly, and Niall just grazes his lips by the corner of his mouth.

“I won’t ever kiss her like I kiss you,” he just says gently. He had wanted to call him a twat for fussing so much, lighten the mood, but he’d seen the genuine worry in his eyes, and he feels immediately awful for even considering it. “Okay?”

Harry considers him for a moment, just blinking, then he latches onto him, snogs him hard and holds him tightly as he does so, not caring anymore about the people who are more than probably watching, who, to their credit, just spare them a mere glance, then go about their work as is usual. 

“Arghhh, fuck’s sake, Horan,” Andy pulls them away from each other, seating Niall down forcefully on his cast chair and attacking his face with makeup.

“Sorry, Ands,” he says, and Harry comes to hold on to his hand as he’s made up.

He huffs, then swears under his breath, shooting Harry daggers with his eyes, and Niall can’t help but laugh when he withers under the glare.

“Well, he’s looking calm,” Barbara tells him a bit later after the scene brief, as the crew’s setting up for the shot. Harry’s standing just a bit away from Drew, and engaged in some conversation with Miles. His shoulders aren’t as tight, and Niall can see where she’s coming from.

“Wasn’t like that awhile ago. But he’ll be okay,” he says, and he knows he will be.

“Are we really doing this?” she says then, as she’s being guided to her harness and her wrists locked together with the prop handcuffs. 

“Ay, get in there,” he tells her, and she snorts at him, and Drew’s yelling at everyone and they start rolling. 

The five of them go head to head, most of it already filmed the night before, and after a few carefully performed stunts, he’s supposed to realize that she’s not really trying to attack them. Rather, “Wait!”

“You serious, man?” John yells at him in his perfect accent, deflecting an imaginary hit as he’d been directed.

“She’s not trying to hurt us!”

“Really? I never noticed,” Saoirse hisses as the girls fly and get thrown off the air, stunt coordinators watching like hawks from the sides.

“She’s just trying to get out of her bonds,” he says, but everyone promptly ignores him, and he huffs, and he looks about a bit, then scales the wall of the building next to him, then when he's high enough, jumps off, landing on the prop bird that'll be CGI’d later on to be Beast Boy as an eagle about to attack Starfire, then toppling to the ground on the huge airbag set up for the stunt. They do this a few more times, then, set up for the next shot with him and Dylan, just transformed back into his human form.

“Dude, what the hell?” he coughs, but Niall's already standing, then barreling towards Cyborg, aiming his staff smartly at his arms and incapacitating his cannons. He doesn't stop there, and tries to knock him down as well, though not to much avail. 

“The hell, white boy?” he says, and Niall has to hold in his laughter. He just knows that's going to be his favorite line from the film, and then he goes for the only weak spot in his body and punches his face, hard, and he goes down with a grunt. 

“Raven, stop it!” he shouts, but when the two don't heed his words and go on attacking each other, he lets out a frustrated yell. Resorts to having to climb another building, then, from above, grab on to Starfire just as Raven is about to throw her weird magic at her, and they both hurtle to the ground, but he deploys his grappling hook tool from his belt, and manages to swing them down to the ground relatively safely. Does it all over again a few more times, then next part of the sequence. 

She starts yelling at him in her alien language and hitting him though she's constrained, and he tries to calm her, “I'm not trying to hurt you!”

He says it over and over again, deflecting her kicks and thrashing, bounded wrists, then says loudly over her continued babbling after he realizes that she can't communicate in English, “Hey! Hey, calm down!”

He stops trying to fight, and shows her some sort of gadget Batman had made. Niall doesn't know what it is, closest he can describe it to is some deranged Swiss Army knife, and he gestures gently to the constraints. Does it over and over, trying to come closer cautiously, and she seems to understand after a few moments, putting down her arms and eyeing him suspiciously, but she allows him to come forward. 

He frees her easily, slicing the hinges of the constraints away, and she stares at her freed hands. Then, she grabs his face and latches her mouth on to his, and Robin flails into the kiss, making surprised noises against her lips. 

“Uh,” Dylan says, and Saoirse just grunts quietly, rolling her eyes at them.

“Well, that’s one way to thank him,” John deadpans, and that’s when Barbara shoves him away, and he’s barely able to stop himself from falling on his ass.

“If you wish not to be destroyed,” she says, and Niall imagines her eyes glowing bright green, and the harness guys are watching carefully for their cue, “you will leave me alone!”   
She flies up a few feet before Drew calls for a cut, then they do it again a few more times, until the sky’s just beginning to brighten, his lips slightly numb by the time they continue to the next unit for the green screen shooting for the rest of the day. 

“Harry,” he walks over to where he’d been watching quietly, removes a glove and holds his waist. “You okay?”

“Yeah, it’s. I’m okay,” he tells him, and he gives him the tiniest smile. He looks tired, and Niall understands.

“Still worried?” he asks him, and Harry’s smile grows a bit.

“No, I’m not,” he answers, and Niall grins at him. “You didn’t enjoy it though, did you?”

Niall chuckles quietly, and he reels him in to kiss him quickly, just as sweet. “Not nearly as much as that.”

“‘Nearly,’ though,” Harry murmurs, and Niall snorts at him.

“You can go take a bit of a kip in the trailer,” he tells him, chest tightening when he watches Harry sleepily rub his eyes, all his edges gone soft. “Keep Ace company too. I’ll be a few more hours.”

“But,” he tries, but he’s fighting back a yawn.

“No more snogging, promise,” he tells him, and he seems to relent, and nods a bit. Leans in to kiss him, lips ending up a few inches off his mouth, but in any case, he leaves right after.

“Ay, that's sweet,” Saoirse tells him, and Barbara is humming her agreement next to her. “He's doing really well.”

“He is,” he says. He feels very proud, relieved. Happy. 

“So. Do you think you'll go public?” one of them asks him, and he pauses.

“I, I don’t know,” he says. “I can, if he wants me to. I wouldn’t mind. I think.”

“I would say something about your hesitation, but I won’t,” Saoirse says. He frowns at her, but he knows she’s right. She gives him a bit of a half-hug, as if she knows that she might have touched a nerve, and she tells him, “I’m sorry. But as much as I think that it’s good to be spontaneous and go with the flow, you know you’re going to have to think a few steps ahead too.”

“In other news,” Barbara says as they make their way to the next unit, “You still kiss really well, he’s lucky.”

He laughs, and the sun’s really rising now, and they still have a full day in front of them, and he still has a full head of problems and then some, but one thing at a time.

.

“Well, this is fun,” he says, day’s barely just begun and Ciara is fuming on the couch in his trailer, Ace’s head perched sadly on her lap.

Another batch of tabloids had come out a few hours earlier, paps waiting somewhere outside Saoirse’s rented out bungalow had taken a multitude of photographs of him kissing her cheek as he bade her good night when he had left in the very early hours of the morning. First link he’d opened when he’d gotten to set was HollywoodLife, straight up trash, but the pictures were real. Everyone proclaiming he and Saoirse had a  _ ‘fun night in,’  _ very creative on their part, and had been doing so for many months now, hooking up in their trailers and whatnot. They’d conveniently forgotten to mention that the others were there as well, very much seen leaving the same door he’d come from, in varying states of sobriety, and there definitely was fun, just not of the sexy variety. 

“We were just having a birthday party for Barbara,” he frowns, scrolls through another article and rolling his eyes at  _ ‘Horan’s ex, Barbara Palvin, was very upset, just having celebrated her 24th birthday that night. She has reportedly not been on the best of terms with her Titans co-stars, and filming has gotten very awkward for the crew trying to find a middle ground with the feuding stars. Sources have told us that, “Niall’s a nice guy, and he loves everyone, and everyone love him. But his dick has caused everyone a lot of problems, and it would be better for everyone if he’d stop pretending he was good at using it.”’  _ “Well, that’s not nice.”

“I’m going to kill everyone,” she says darkly, and Ace whines.

“I know how to use my dick,” he murmurs to himself, and appropriately, Ciara throws one of the throw pillows, hard, right at his head.

“You absolute twat,” she snorts, and Ace gets up from where he’d been laying on her lap and climbs down to sit next to Niall, lay his head by his feet and hide his face behind his paws. “That really your biggest concern?”   
“I thought we’d already denied this,” he says, frowning. “Even tweeted ages ago, and they’re still pushing it?”

“Studio must really like the angle, it looks like. I don’t know,” she huffs, and she brings out her phone and starts typing lightning fast. “I don’t know, I’m gonna have words with them, christ. Whole bloody world thinks you’re hooking up with everyone in this bloody cast. Next thing you know, another source will be saying they saw you and fucking Qui-Gon Jinn giving each other blowies in someone’s trailer.”

Niall’s nose scrunches at the thought, and his chest gets tight. Doesn’t know whether to tell her that while there’s been all this shit about him and Saoirse having a thing on set and there’s been, supposedly, jealousy on Barbara’s part, all according to Perez and Bonnie Fuller and Jared and whoever the hell, really, he’s been snogging and fucking his best mate and his already confused feelings just get fucked up even more.

“Man, when did you two hook up?” Dylan asks them later on, as the crew is setting up for another shot of the sequence, and Saoirse and Niall both roll their eyes at him. “I mean, wouldn’t make sense since we were all there, and Niall left before I did. Or was there an orgy I don’t remember?”   
“People are being stupid,” Barbara speaks for them, her hair being flipped by the hairdressers until it’s beach wave perfection once again. “Making up stories just to get attention.”

“How’s he doing?” John asks him, and he knows immediately to whom he’s pertaining. “I mean, this isn’t to offend you, but. He must be used to the publicity relationship thing, isn’t he? He knows how it is.”

Niall frowns, his eyebrows furrowed, tells himself not to get irrationally angry at John, because he’s completely right. Harry is used to it, and so is Niall, to be fair, but there is a reason he hadn’t spoken to Harry for several months, December of 2015 onwards. Or maybe he really just hates Jeff, and he’d put his resentment in the wrong place. Either way, all of it. They’re just times he’d really rather just forget. 

“I don’t know,” he answers shortly, and everyone goes a bit quiet for a moment, before Barbara brings up something else, thanks Saoirse for the little party and steers the conversation somewhere else. Niall is grateful, and he hugs John from the side, just to let him know he’s not the one he’s cross with. 

He decides to bring it up with Harry a little later when he gets back to his place, Ace trotting next to him as he unlocks the door, but he’s understandably distracted when he opens the door and Harry had already been naked in his kitchen, his cock stiff and red and leaking at the tip as he’d pulled himself off with little whining noises pouring out of his mouth.

“Oh,  _ god,” _ he's hissing later on, hands clenched on the edge of the counter as he pounds into Harry, and Harry's got his arms right around him, legs crossed over Niall's back and his arse sweat-slicked on the countertop as he's fucked, making these  _ “uh-uh-uh’s”  _ that just ring in Niall's ears. “The fuck were you doing, jacking off right there?”

“Got impatient,” Harry replies breathily, yelping when Niall takes his arse in his hands, spreads his cheeks apart as he fucks in harder and deeper. He throws his head back, groaning at the overwhelming sensations everywhere, and Niall sucks on his throat, doesn’t care if he leaves any marks behind, wants to devour him and melt into him and do everything with him.

“H-harder,” he breathes out, and Niall presses his palm down on his chest, makes him lean back further until he’s almost laying on his back flat, and on the next shove in, Harry lets out a strangled yell, so loud and he clenches hard around his dick. “My  _ god,”  _ he swears, his hands flying out to grip at Niall’s arms. “God, make me come, I’m close-”

“Jesus, Harry,” he grunts, gripping on to his hips, his love handles giving just slightly around his fingers, and he goes for it, shoving into his arse and his hand barely gets his erection in a loose grip when Harry shouts, thrashing as he comes hard and spills everywhere. 

“Fuck,” Harry breathes, his chest heaving and his body slick with sweat, and Niall’s still so hard inside him, and watching him in the blissful, fucked out state he’s in isn’t making anything any easier for him. Harry must notice, because he closes his eyes, and he pumps his hips a bit, just minute motions, but they’re more than enough to get Niall gasping, spilling straight into his arse.

“Fucking shit,” Niall curses, and he can’t help but fall on top of Harry, groaning loudly as he gets his breathing back in control. “You just won’t stop.”

“Never,” Harry says, voice coming out breathy, and there’s jizz and sweat and whatever between them, and it’s all good for a moment, then it gets gross very quickly, so Niall pulls out, both of them wincing as he slides out of him.

“Clean up my counter,” Niall says, throwing the condom away in the bin, and Harry just hums, laying back on it a bit longer, before he forces himself to get on his feet and walking tiredly towards Niall, the slight limp in his step making him feel very smug. He snakes his arms around him, just naked hugging and he's all too comfortable with it. 

Niall sighs, rips out a few sheets from the kitchen roll, and wipes him down gently, though Harry's standing too close. “Haz, I'm trying to clean you up-”

“Hmmm,” he just hums, not moving away in the least, and Niall just sighs again, does his best to clean them both up even though there really isn't any space to speak of between their bodies. 

They move on up to the bedroom, their pace groggy and much more than leisurely, and Ace is already on their bed, spreading his limbs wide everywhere and looking at them reproachfully.

“He doesn’t like it when we’re naked,” Niall just notes, and Harry just takes the pillows and the duvet, and they decide wordlessly to just take a kip in the couch down in the lounge for the night, seeing as his dog had put up with them and their nudity much too often and he deserves the bed for once.

They’d ordered for a few pizzas, and Harry had answered the door in just his boxers and leaving the delivery boy very flustered and he’d rushed through the delivery, not staying long enough to collect his tip. Harry had pouted while Niall laughed.

“How was work?” Harry asks him, biting into a shrimp and roasted garlic pizza as the television plays in front of them, though the volume down to very low. He’d taken off his underwear as soon as he’d made it back to the lounge, and they were huddled up together, duvet barely covering their legs as they ate and spoke.

“Nothing much,” he tells him, and he’s picking out the green bell pepper in his own slice. “Just a few lighter scenes today. Argued and yelled at John a bit. Not, um, not  _ John  _ John. Cyborg. You know.”

“Hmm, yeah,” he hums, and he takes a bite out of Niall’s slice when it’s offered to him. “That why you came back earlier today?”   
“They just needed me for a bit,” he replies, and he steals a bite from Harry’s pizza. He doesn’t react much, though, and takes a full slice out of Niall’s box. “I’ve got a full day tomorrow, though. Might not make it back until maybe the morning.”

“Oh, alright,” Harry says quietly, and he puts the slice back down. His shoulders slump and his eyes lower down to his plate, and Niall watches him carefully. Puts down their plates to the coffee table, and makes Harry face him properly.

“Want to come with me tomorrow?” he asks, and Harry’s face is unreadable.

“I, uh, I can’t,” he says, “Jeff’s got a few meetings planned the whole morning and afternoon. It’s okay. I understand you’ll be busy tomorrow.”

“Oh, um. Okay,” he says, and he doesn’t like the atmosphere in the room. “So. You saw the pictures and everything.”

“Hard to avoid,” he says, and he straightens himself up, but Niall can tell he’s faking his composure, but he chooses not to call him out on it. “People seem very excited about the two of you.”

He doesn’t know how many times he’ll be having this sort of conversation with Harry. It’s not that he’s tired of it, but he is wondering just how much it’s going to take for him to convince Harry to trust him. Doesn’t know how they go from shagging very enthusiastically in the kitchen to this. 

“Harry, we’re not doing anything,” he says, and he nods, showing he’s heard him, but he doesn’t know what he’s thinking. He can usually tell, but at the moment. “Haz. You’re too important to me, I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. You know that, please know that.”

Harry looks at him then, and his eyes go so soft, and he says, “I. Yeah, of course. I’m sorry.”

“Do you want me to say something?” he asks him, “Deny it again? Maybe, um. Admit, uh. Us? Because I’m willing.” But Harry seems to straighten up more, clears his throat. When he looks at Niall, he’s smiling, and it’s not forced, but it’s not the same smile he knows Harry to have. Just different. 

“No, it’s okay,” he tells him, holding his hand. “I get why they’d be interested. I know how it works.”

“That’s not what I’m asking,” Niall says, but Harry’s being frustratingly obtuse and vague.

“It’s okay,” he says, and he kisses him. “I understand why you can’t really say anything.”

“Harry.”

“It’s okay,” he repeats, and he’s climbing over, settling on his lap and leaning his head down to snog him properly. “It really is.”   
“Haz,” he says, but Harry reaches down to get his dick in his hand and starts pulling him off slowly, and he really does want to talk about this more. But it’s apparent that Harry doesn’t want to.

.

“So, after that sequence, grappling hook up,” Drew is saying, walking Niall through the scene, “Once you get to the roof, somersault to avoid, then kick him, right on the chest, then split kick in the air.”

“Okay,” he says, nodding to show his understanding, then he and the stunt coordinators and fight choreographers go through the motions before the cameras roll, and everything’s fine until he has to stretch his leg up to attempt the kick.

“Ah, fuck,” he hisses when the bottom of his spine flares up, and his hips kind of just groan at him. He straightens back up, and he blinks at the slight pain. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

Barbara’s already coming over to him, concerned look on her face, and some of the other guys hang around him.

“You okay, Horan?” he hears one of them ask, and he nods. “What happened? You were doing okay the other day.”

He doesn’t really know how to say that he’d had marathon sex the night before, and it’s not like they’d gone too far, but the last time, maybe fourth time they’d come, he’d felt like his body had been split in two with how hard Harry had pounded into him.

Drew seems to read him pretty well, sees the blush spreading on Niall’s cheeks, and he starts snickering to himself, and asks him, “been doing stunts for months now. Why’s this the first time this has happened?”

“Never asked me to do a high kick and split in the air one after the other, have you?” he says, doesn’t dare mention that he’s usually more careful to top if he knows he has to film a fight scene, but he’d just. He’d forgotten. 

Drew just cackles, calls for a break to show he cares, and then everyone else just looks at him all confused, all except fro Barbara, whose face screws up into a grossed out sort of look, and Niall knows that she’s figured it out.

“Really?” she just says, and he shrugs as he stands, wincing a bit, and she sighs. “Much more than I needed to know this early in the morning.”

“Let’s just all agree to not talk about this,” he says, and he tries to wipe of his own sweat, but Andy comes rushing forward and slaps his hands away, and starts dabbing at his face carefully. “Fuck, I really should be more careful.”

“So I take it that he’d taken everything with Saoirse and me well enough,” she remarks lightly.

“Ah, um. I’m not actually not sure about that,” he says, frowning, and she glances at him. “I don’t know. He confuses me.”

“I thought you knew each other pretty well.”

“We do,” he says. “Just. Sometimes, I don’t know what’s going through his head. I know he might be thinking something, but he’ll tell me something completely different. I don’t know which part to believe sometimes.”

“Well, I’ll just tell you this,” Drew interrupts then, and Barbara jumps a bit, and Niall sighs. Neither of them had even felt him walk up behind them. “People lie all the time. It’s easier for some than it is for others, but the main thing is that it’s much easier to lie with their mouths, than it is with their minds.”

They both blink at him, and all he does is grin smugly, tilt his chin up and gather them in a hug. “Did that help?”

“I’m not all too sure,” he says, and Drew laughs at that.

“Well, I understand that,” he says, “but maybe the thing you’re missing here is that he doesn’t quite know how to tell you. Just because you’ve known each other for years, it doesn’t always mean that you can just tell each other everything so easily. And with the two of you, your dynamics changed a fair bit.”   
“No they haven’t,” he says, but he sees Drew shaking his head and Barbara rolling her eyes.

“You might say that just to make yourself feel better,” she starts saying, “But sex changes things. A lot of people might say that it doesn’t, but it really can.”

“And as far as you’ve told us,” Drew says, and his eyes show something close to pity. Niall doesn’t like the look at all. “It definitely is much more than just a friends with benefits thing. Especially on your part.”

“That’s. Really not helping,” he tells them honestly, and Barbara pouts. Not the frustrated or irritated kind of pout, but genuinely upset, unhappy. “Oh, B,” he says, and she hugs him tightly, and he knows that she really just wants the best for him. 

.

It’s a few days before Harry has to leave for Florida, go on the next leg of his tour. They haven’t quite spoken about the things they really need to talk about, and Niall had planned to, for several days. But whenever he’d seemed close to getting Harry to engage in a conversation about anything, Harry would redirect and distract him with something else. Which is how they’re at the position they’re in.

“God,  _ fuck,”  _ Niall squeezes his eyes shut as he adjusts around Harry’s length, his palms finding balance as they’re pressed up on Harry’s chest. “We really,  _ fuck,  _ god, we really can’t do this all the time.”

“Why not?” Harry breathes below him, his hands tight, gripping on his hips, muscles and hard and Niall’s very proud of the ‘V’ he’d developed there, though he wishes slightly that he’d had love handles like Harry, finds it honestly so endearing. “This is great. Fucking amazing.”

“Harry,” he wants to sound irritated, but he knows he fails in every aspect of that when he ends up gasping when Harry shoves his hips up, fucking in and making Niall jump slightly.

“Sorry, you weren’t moving,” he says to defend himself, and Niall twists his puffy nipples in retaliation, making him squawk, but before he can protest, Niall lifts off of his cock and slams back down quickly, and the effect is immediate. “Oh,  _ holy fuck,”  _ he pants, his grip on Niall’s hips almost painful, but just this side of amazing, and Niall rides him properly, bouncing on his cock with everything in him.

“You’re so hard,” he says, leaning down to bite, pull at Harry’s bottom lip with his teeth, and he straightens back up, and pounds himself down. “You feel so good-”

“Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck,”  _ Harry’s panting, moaning as Niall rolls his hips in circular motions and he swears he feels his dick pulse inside him, throb with the need to come. “Niall, I. Oh my fuck-”   
“Come on, just a bit more,” he hisses when Harry’s shoves upwards loses its rhythm slightly, pace more uneven and obviously in the need to release. “Harry, come on. Come in me, come on-”

“Niall,” Harry sounds close to tears, his breathing short and he thrusts up hard and fast, making Niall jump and the slap of their skin together is so audible, so loud and his own cock slaps against Harry’s abdomen, hard and he just wants to come, so so badly. 

Niall squeezes his arse around him, pounds himself down hard on his hard length, and Harry pulls him off, gets his great big hand on his cock and jerks him off the the pace he’d set, and Niall loses it. He comes, gasping and whining and whimpering as he shoots ribbons of white over Harry’s stomach, over the stupid butterfly and marking his skin with his come. 

“God,” he breathes, and Harry pulls him down for a deep, very wet kiss, and his arse winks around his hardness. “Shit, You should-”

“Can I?” he asks him, and Niall nods, braces himself and lays on top of Harry, wincing slightly when he palms over his arse cheeks, spreading them apart and he fucks in gingerly, waiting in his reaction. He's sensitive, but it's not unpleasurable, finds himself panting at the next push in, and he's licking and biting at Harry's throat, encouraging him to go a bit harder, a bit faster. 

Harry's got one arm wrapped over his back, pinning their bodies flush together as he drills into his hole, chasing his high, and the other hand plants itself firmly on his arse, keeping him open as he goes on pushing into him. 

It doesn’t take very long. After a few well-aimed thrusts, Harry comes in him, and Niall feels it, and it’s filthy and gives him too much satisfaction, the way he’s sure it’s leaking out of him.

“Oh, god,” Harry breathes, and he just holds Niall for several moments as he comes down, then he slides out slowly, and helps him lie on his back. Niall jerks a bit when Harry goes down on him to lick off the come on his stomach, then his hole, and the wet warmth of his tongue on his stretched out entrance is good at first, but it turns into too much very quickly.

“Haz, sorry, it’s a lot, I can’t-”

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” he murmurs, kissing the rim one final time before he crawls back up, kisses him and making him taste everything.

“We’re disgusting,” he says, scrunching up his nose at him, and Harry chuckles, shaking his head and kisses him again, gives him tongue and everything just to be a shit. 

They rearrange themselves on the bed a bit, Harry cuddling up to Niall and resting his head on his chest, arms around him and the rooms is comfortably warm, and Harry’s body has always been so weird, completely freezing one moment and then burning hot like a furnace the next, but right now, it’s completely just right.

It’s silent for several minutes, and the contentment settles into Niall’s bones, makes him relaxed and Harry just being there makes it all that much better. “You leave for Florida in two days?”

Harry nods against his chest, tightening his arms around him. 

“Then where else are you going to?”

“Few other cities here, then a few more in Asia. Finishing up the tour in Australia,” he replies sleepily, and he’s snuggling even closer, his breathing evening out. Niall listens to him breathe, feels the rise and fall of his chest pressed up against him, and it’s several more minutes of silence between them. Niall thinks Harry might have fallen asleep, and he’s about to do the same, until Harry speaks quietly, almost inaudible, his breath fanning gently over his skin.

“Until when are you filming?” he asks him, and he doesn’t move.

“Um. Until December,” he answers, yawning, and he’s nodding off. “Not much longer now.”

“But you still have to do a press tour,” Harry adds, and he sounds more awake. 

“Well, yeah, but not until next year,” Niall tells him, and he feels more awake too. Doesn’t know where exactly Harry’s planning to steer this conversation to, but he just feels it in the air. He just knows it’s not going to end well.

“Do you think you’re going to do more movies?” he asks him. “Like, it would be safe to assume that this will have a sequel. Full franchise, that kind of thing.”

“If it does well enough,” he says slowly. “Hopefully.”

“And you’re too good to not go on,” he continues. “Like, if not with the Teen Titans, then definitely something with Batman, maybe even a solo thing. You’ll definitely be making more movies.”

Niall stills. “Haz. What’s your point?”

“I’m not,” he tries to say, but. “Just. Do you think, maybe. This might turn out to be something regular for you?”

“I would hope not,” he says, and Harry goes very still in his arms. “You should know that it’s not. The band is my priority. You know that.”

“Yeah, I know,” he says, and they’re both definitely not sleepy anymore. “I was just wondering.”

“Wondering about what?”

“Just. Everything,” he says, and he’s being vague again. Niall tries not to get annoyed, but Harry can be so frustrating. “I don’t know. You just have to think about your other options too. I’ve got whatever I’ve got going on, and you have this. It could be-”

“Harry,” he breathes, tries to get his words out clearly and carefully. “Are you telling me you don’t want me to be in the band anymore?”

“No, I-”

“So.  _ You _ don’t want to be in the band anymore.”

“No, I do, of course I do,” he says, “I’m just saying. If ever things don’t work out that way. We’d both be set.”

“Harry,” he says, and he’s losing his patience, and he doesn’t want to fight, but it seems like now they’re finally going to talk about everything that needs to be talked about, but Harry’s just making it more difficult than it needs to be. “I’m going back to the band. It doesn’t matter if I’ll be doing more movies or whatever. I’m still going to choose to continue with One Direction.”

“Yeah, fine,” Harry says, suddenly sitting up and ungluing himself from Niall’s side. His shoulders are tense and his overall demeanor stiff, and Niall really doesn’t want to fight. “It doesn’t matter, I was just asking.”   
“Haz,” he tries, keeps his voice low and as calm as he can muster, “What’s this about?”

He stays quiet for a moment, then he says, “I don’t know. I'm just upset and I was thinking about my options and then I thought about you and. Now I'm just confused about everything. And you just go along with everything, everything's always going to be okay for you.”

“Harry, I don’t understand,” he says. “What are you talking about?”

Harry laughs, the sound humorless, and Niall has to sit up now too. “You’ll always have something even without the band, even without me.”

Niall loses his words, and he stares at Harry. Then he gets angry, because he’s such a twat, such an ignorant idiot. “That’s not true. Harry, you don’t. Christ,  _ christ,  _ you don’t know how hurt I was when you’d planned all of this without us and went off on your own. I don’t know how else to tell you, I  _ want  _ you in my life. And it didn’t seem like you thought the same.”

“Well,” he says, “with or without me, you’ll be fine. Someone’s always going to want you anyway. And you’ll just go along with it all the same.”

Niall freezes, and he doesn’t remember a time he’d been so mad at him before. “So this  _ is  _ about Saoirse and Barbara.” Harry doesn’t speak, but Niall doesn’t need him to. “Harry, I told you already, you’re the only person -”

“-You’re doing anything with, yeah, I know,” he finishes for him, and Niall is so frustrated, and it makes him want to cry a little. “It’s not just them, but whatever.”

“Can you please just talk to me straight?” he says. “Just. God, fuck you, Haz. You do it too, you do it more often than I do. And I asked you, remember? I asked you if you wanted me to say something and I would have. You didn’t tell me shit.”

“Sorry, then,” he says, and when he looks at Niall his eyes are blazing and just a tad shinier. “Why don’t you go to Saoirse and whine to her about me?”

Niall blinks, and he wants to scream at him. He knows Harry, knows he’s not hard to talk to, he’s reasonable, but he’s acting like such a spoiled brat and he doesn’t know why. Doesn’t know why he’s expecting Niall to just  _ understand  _ or comply or whatever. 

“Maybe I will,” he says, his voice hard. “At least I happen to like the girls they pair me up with.”

They both go extremely quiet, so silent that he thinks the only sound that can be heard is Ace’s whine from downstairs, and he knows he’s gone too far.

When Harry looks at him, his eyes are furrowed and wet but angry, “How are you and I so different?”

“Harry-”

“No!” he says, he shakes his head and screws his eyes shut, wiping at his face. “We've both made plans, we've both been with people we don't really like that way just to get attention. Don't act as if you're any better then me.”

“I'm not,” he says, and he's trying to keep himself calm. “But the difference between you and me is that I never abandoned you. I never could.”

“And you're saying I did?”

“Harry, how were we supposed to feel when you planned a whole tour when we were supposed to come back?” he asks, and he feels like his heart is breaking. “We promised. I don't know if you remember, but we said we wouldn't hide anything from each other.”

“You and I both know that it wasn't realistic,” Harry tells him. 

“I know it's not,” he says. “But I would have thought that you would tell us a big thing like dropping a solo record and touring around the world for it.”

Harry breathes in, and he blinks rapidly. “You’re not being fair.”

“The same way just forgetting about us and putting up a tour when you knew that the three of us were planning to come back wasn’t fair?” Niall says.

“I’m not the only one!” Harry says, and he’s getting off the bed and pulling the sheets along with him, covering his body as though Niall’s never seen it before. He looks vulnerable and scared, and Niall never wanted for him to look like that. “What about you, and this movie? How are you any different? You made plans too!”

“Because you forced me to, Harry!” he almost shouts it, and he feels vulnerable too. Not just because he’s naked. “I wasn’t planning to do this, you know. I had no plans to take on the movie because I’d thought the band would be back together by now and making music. I had every intention to not do it. But you went on ahead and decided to not keep your end of the promise. I had to do something. I know full well that this is just a side trip for me. I don’t know if what you’re doing is the same for you.”

Harry’s lip wobbles slightly, and he looks away from him. “I never abandoned you. Or the others.”

“Yeah?” Niall challenges, and maybe he should leave it, but he really can’t. “When was the last time you talked to Lou?  Or Payno? Did you know Freddie’s had a severe case of colic? Been crying nonstop and Louis was real upset. And Liam’s been thinking of proposing to Cheryl. You don’t know about any of that, do you?”

The way he stays quiet tells Niall he hadn’t known, and he wishes he’d felt better about being right about this, but he really doesn’t. Doesn’t feel good in any way for making Harry feel bad.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly later on, and Niall looks at him, and he’s staring down at the ground, hands clenched uselessly at the duvet. He’s sniffling, rubbing at his eyes, and Niall doesn’t like the fact that he’s making him cry, but.

“God, Haz,” Niall says, and he wants to cry himself. “I love you, but I’m so tired.”

Harry’s eyes snap up, and they’re wide, shocked and several other things Niall can’t really bother to figure out at the moment. “Niall. I-”   
“I know I agreed to trying whatever this is,” he says, tries not to sound so devastated, “and I promised you that we’d try. And I have, I really tried, but I don’t know where this is going and. Harry, I love you, but I don’t think it’s enough this time. I don’t know what it is you really want anymore.”

“Niall, please,” he tries, but Niall’s already shaking his head, “I-”

“Please, just go,” he says, pleads quietly. Can’t quite bear to look at his face anymore and instead looks down at his lap.

“Ni-”

“Please,” he asks one last time, doesn’t look up, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move. It’s silent for several achingly long minutes, and he doesn’t look up when Harry wordlessly gathers his clothes, leaves with a soft click of the door, and he’s alone. Still doesn’t look up, when the door opens and he feels Ace join him in the bed, whining as he tries to comfort him.

.

He’s very quiet the next day on set, and everybody notices, but nobody calls him out on it. They’ve got no real reason to, because he gets his scenes right on the first take, he gets Drew his shots and he doesn’t give anyone a hard time. He just works, just as well as he always has, but otherwise. Doesn’t do much else.

He’s hanging out by the trailers, still has a few more hours and the sky’s already darkened considerably, but just as well. The house feels too lonely now, even with Ace curled up next to him on the bed, and he’d rather be here.

“Here, bud,” he murmurs quietly as he’s feeding Ace a bit of a biscuit from his palm, and it’s quiet now on the lot. Everyone else is in the studio, sound stage filming, but he hadn’t been needed. Ace is a good companion, though. Isn’t as energetic as usual, must feel Niall’s general lack of energy or enthusiasm for anything, so he had followed suit. Chooses to just sit next to him or on him, and Niall really loves his stupid dog.

“Does he like cake?”

Niall looks up, and sees Dylan, still green everywhere but at least in a comfy looking robe, and John, out of costume and ready to head out, done for the day, Dylan has a paper plate of cake from Miles’ birthday lunch earlier in the day balanced in one hand, a bright blue hued Slurpee in the other, and John is trying to hide his laughter.

“Um, he does, but it's not good for him,” Niall says. “At all.”

Dylan shrugs, and plops down next to them and digs into the cake himself, and John takes the other side.

“What are you still doing here?” Niall. Asks him, and John smirks a bit. 

“Was just about to leave, but I wanted to check up on you,” he answers, and Niall tries not to flush. “You've been really quiet today. Did - oh, you don't need to tell us if you don't want to, of course. But we just wanted to know if things were okay with you.”

Niall doesn’t speak for a moment, then Ace whines in his lap, cranes his neck up to try to lick a bit at the icing on the plate, but Dylan reaches his arm out and the cake away from him, shaking his head smugly. Niall snorts, and of course his dog had been the one to break the tension.

“No, things aren’t. Things could be better,” he answers honestly, smoothing out the fur on Ace’s back. “But it’ll be okay, eventually. I have faith.”

Things stay silent again, Dylan eats, Ace tries to eat, Niall and John have taken to petting Ace wherever he lets them, which is everywhere, distracting him enough to make him wriggle around happily with his tongue lolling out. 

“Oh, yeah, I thought I’d mention,” Dylan says as he sips on his drink, so artificially blue it should be worrying, “But Chris cried when he went through the dailies.”

“He did?” Niall says, and John glances up curiously.

“Yeah, he did, like he had to pause the footage and everything, it was hilarious,” he says, and they both stare at him. “Anyway. I don’t think I’m supposed to mention this, I don’t think he was intending for anyone to see. But I happened to be hanging around the balcony, and when I looked down, there it is, crying Nolan. Should have taken a picture.”

“What scene was it, then?” Niall's asking, and Dylan holds up a finger as he takes another sip. 

“The one where you cried,” he says. John makes a noise of understanding, but Niall doesn't react. 

It wasn't a particularly eventful scene to shoot. He just had to cry and apologize to several extras playing dead. But, maybe that's just because he'd blocked that part of the day out of his head already. Failing to save people is a heavy burden, not one he's so willing to repeat even if it was fake.

It's quiet again, for much too long. Cake’s been gone for several minutes, and Ace had taken to just lying limply on his lap. 

“Was there a point you wanted to bring up with that, then?” he asks. 

“Oh, um. No, not really,” Dylan tells him simply, and John snorts beside him, and Niall sighs. “If you need a pep talk or something, the girls are usually better at it. They'll be done in about a half hour-”

“We just thought you'd want some company,” John tells him, talking over Dylan, who goes quiet very willingly. “If you want us around, that is. If not, we can leave-”

“No,” Niall says quietly. “The company, I mean. It's very welcome. But I don't think I'll be talking much.”

“You don't need to,” Dylan tells him, and they huddle closer together, and decidedly not speak.

They sit there for a long while, long enough that Saoirse and Barbara both come out of the set, swaddled in padded coats, and take one glance at the three of them plus one dog just sitting in front of Niall's trailer, and wordlessly, they take off their boots and join them.

Niall ends up tearing up a bit. Not a full on cry, but he sniffs and his eyes sting with the promise of tears, and Ace immediately snuggles him insistently. John and Dylan lay their heads on either of his shoulders, and the five of them just sit quietly until he's called back to film.

.

He'd been a bit more than surprised when he’d come into work a few days later, discovers Louis and Liam mucking about in his trailer and playing with his super suit.

“This is cheating,” Liam tells him, pressing his hand on the padding on the chest, meant to emphasize the muscle. “I want one.”

Niall blinks at them, still completely not expecting them to be here. “I, I thought you were-”

“I’m visiting Freddie, fixing some contractual shit with Bri,” Louis explains to him, and he’s tried on the mask. It looks oddly out of place with his emo-feathered haircut. “Spending a bit of time with Danielle before she’s off to New Orleans to film. Don’t tell anyone, she’s not actually dead on the show.”

“Oh, so it’s a Jon Snow thing,” Niall says, and Liam looks at them both, confused look on his face.

“Payno here’s just gotten back from Europe, going to work on a few songs with some people I don’t know,” he goes on to tell him, and Liam just frowns at Louis.

“But why are you here, specifically,” he asks them.

“Your agent threatened us,” he says simply, and Niall stares at them, very honestly hoping he’s joking, but he knows what Lou looks like when he’s taking the piss, and he very much isn’t at the moment, the little smug smirk on his face offering very little relief. “She wouldn’t leave us alone until we were on our planes going here.”   
“She said you might want a bit of company,” Liam says, and Niall feels a rush of embarrassment.

“Sorry about her,” he says meekly, but Louis snorts and Liam just smiles at him. “She’s, um. She means well, but-”

“But nothing, she was right. You look awful, bro,” Liam tells him, straight to the point, and Niall frowns at him.

“I’m not  _ that  _ bad-”

“Shush, now, Nialler,” Louis holds up a hand, “And where is the best dog in the universe? Don’t look at me like that, Liam, Loki shat on my shoes last time I saw him-”

They hang around for the rest of the day, getting comfortable enough to mess around a bit with the other boys and some of the crew and it’s only because Niall’s known them for so long that he manages to avoid getting hosed down right before lunch. Some of the other crew hadn’t been so lucky, and Louis, Liam, John and Dylan were chased around by Sal, Drew, Andrew, Chrissy, Miles, Andy, Becca, Heath, Mike, and Niall loses count after Barbara and Saoirse were unfortunate enough to get water ballooned right after they’d changed out of their costumes. 

They invite themselves over to his place, and Niall would mind, would just prefer to go order some completely unhealthy contraband takeaway and try to ignore Ace’s wide-eyed pleas until he gives in and they end up sharing some chicken nuggets and end up falling asleep in front of the tele, but Louis and Liam veto out the junk food and demand for some Niall-steaks, and really, Ciara wasn’t completely wrong. He would like a bit of company.

“-and when you just halo out from the helicopter, holy  _ fuck,”  _ Louis is detailing the stunts Niall knows very much about, having just done them a few hours ago. “That is going to look so sick, like Tom Cruise but not as crazy, you are. Or maybe even crazier, I don’t know, I’ve never met Tom Cruise, and you’re pretty wild, as it turns out. Not so much a church boy now, are you, Nialler?”

“You like hearing yourself talk, don’t you Tommo,” Niall says serenely, unwrapping the steaks and then pouring over some brown butter over their pastas, completely too much for supper, or any meal, really, but. In for a penny. “And I didn’t halo, there was a wire-”

“Do you think they’ll let me try it if I bribe them?” Louis asks, and Niall sighs at him. 

“Doesn’t work that way, Lou,” he says.

“Brown sauce please,” Liam says as Louis goes on a bit of a rant, and Niall hands it to him. It’s quite peaceful tonight, doesn’t seem to be much noise coming from the traffic, and the skies are clear and the stars could be brighter, but this is Los Angeles, and there are enough lights down here.

They settle down in the lounge chairs by the pool, and Niall really should find the time to actually swim in it one of these days, before he has to leave once shooting wraps up, and he listens to them yammer on about what’s been going on in their lives, little things he hasn’t heard yet. Louis and Brianna are close to finding a good arrangement, and Niall is glad, means that Freddie won’t have to grow up without his dad, and Louis will get to know his son. Liam’s found a ring, but hasn’t bought it yet, took some time to think about it and decides that at 24, he really is too young, and he needs to be sure, otherwise. Cheryl really can’t afford another divorce, and he doesn’t want to muck about with her.

They talk, and talk, talk for ages, and Niall listens, and he’s very much content to just do that. His life at the moment may be considered a bit more eventful than theirs, but really. When he sits down and thinks about it, it really isn’t as interesting, and he’d much rather hear about Freddie’s penchant for making noises that sound like  _ ‘Hi!’  _ and Louis being confused on whether to consider it his first word or not, much rather hear about Liam getting lost in the hotel and walk in on a couple being intimate while looking for Cheryl’s room.

They’ve finished up their food, laughing about how Liam had been invited to  _ ‘roll around in the bed with them,’  _ and Niall feels infinitely better. Not everything’s okay, not yet, but at least, in this moment.

“So, you dramatic twat,” Louis is saying leaning back in his lounger and staring at Niall. “You feeling any better?”

He blinks, not expecting to be asked so directly. “Um, yeah. Loads better.”

“You don't look it,” Liam tells him, and Niall frowns. “Sorry. Just an observation.”

“I'm doing well enough,” he tries, tries not to look so stroppy and whatever, and the way their eyebrows curve upwards tell him he's not convincing either of them. “Okay. Things are kind of fucked, but it's not - um. Just. I'll be okay.”

“Yeah?” Liam tries, “So. Has it got anything to do with Harry, then?”

“What?” Niall blinks, and his heart races in his chest. “Um. Where'd you get that idea?”

“Well, we haven't heard from him in some time,” Liam says carefully, pauses every now and then as he thinks of what to say. “And, um. It was just a thought, and-”

“Christ, Liam, awful interrogation,” Louis says, cutting him off. “Look, Ni. Does your being a stroppy idiot having anything to do with the fact that you and Harry have been shagging?”

Niall goes deathly quiet, and he feels himself just go cold all over, his chest suddenly going hollow. “Louis, I. I don't know where you-”

“Ciara told us,” he says, answers for questions that weren't really asked outright. “She called us up to try to get us to come here and when we asked why, that's what she told us. So we assumed some sort of heartbreak.”

“And it's confusing, because on one hand, you're sad,” Liam says. “But then again, it's Harry who'd made you sad. But also on another hand, Harry's hurt too, and you might be the reason-”

“Shit, fuck,” Niall breathes, and it's so much to absorb. But the first thing he asks, “how is that - I don't understand. I never told her that Harry and I were even. I don't understand, how did she know?”

“That woman knows everything,” Louis replies easily. “Don't know how, she just does. And, like, when she told us, made me think why I didn't see it sooner. Now that I think about it, the two of you hooking up was kind of inevitable.”

“Oh my god, Lou,” Niall says, and he feels ashamed. Not because of Harry and what they did together, but more of. This was the way they'd found out. “I'm sorry.”

“Was a bit of a shock to be honest,” Liam says, “When she'd first told us about it. We, um. We actually thought that you and Saoirse, maybe, because whenever we saw you with her, you always - nevermind, it doesn’t matter. But then she told us about the both of you, and it made sense but we were still shocked. Then, mostly, we were just sad.”

“Why didn't you tell us, Niall?” Louis asks him, and he doesn't sound the least bit hostile. Genuinely just patient and curious. “It's, you know, the both of you, you're our family. We're your brothers, we would have understood. I mean, yeah, not going to lie, it's confusing and I wasn't so sure. But who gives a fuck, you know? That's your choice, if you two have something. We would have tried to understand.”

He gets slightly choked, and he sincerely doesn't know what to say, how to react, how to tell them anything. “Didn't know how to say. Just. I knew in some way that this would happen. Just. I don't know.”

“You knew  _ what _ would happen, Nialler?” Liam asks patiently, and Niall sucks in a breath. 

“I just. I knew it wasn't smart to sleep with him and fall in love with him,” he admits finally, and Louis and Liam both go very quiet. “I knew, but I couldn't help it.”

“There's nothing wrong with that.”

“Yeah?” he turns to Liam. “We haven't spoken for a week, since I told him how I felt. Now we're broken up, or. Whatever we are, I'm not sure he just wanted to  _ ‘try’  _ and I've got no fucking clue what that even means but we're not talking. Now I don't know how we're going to be in the same band with what we've done.”

Niall wishes now that there was some sort of noise now, noise from traffic or neighbors blasting their home stereos or whatever. Anything, anything other than the silence he's getting.

“We'll figure it out,” Louis tells him quietly, small smile on his face. “Been through worse, haven't we?”

“I don't know, Lou,” and he's really just leaving everything out on the table now. “I really. I don't know. He just, he did this, and what was I supposed to do? What were we supposed to do? Why'd he have to go off and do all of this. He promised. Didn't it mean anything to him?”

“Hey, now, Ni. That's not fair,” Louis tells him gently. “You're usually always the first to defend him when he's not here to do it himself, now you're going to start attacking him?”

“It's his fault we're in this state,” he says, and he's irrationally angry. “He just. He  _ moved on,  _ he just abandoned us.”

“Okay, now you're really not thinking this through,” Liam says. “Niall, you're doing the same thing.”

“No I'm not,” he says. The hollow feeling in his chest worsens, makes his fingers go numb. “I told you both, this is just a side trip.”

“Ni, be real. For a side trip, you're doing really well,” Louis tells him honestly. “You might not see it, but we do. That whole crew, they do, and soon enough the world will too.”

“You might think that you’re not doing the same thing,” Liam comes in then, “that you’re different from Harry, but you really aren’t. And that’s okay.”

Niall blinks hard, swallows down the lump in his throat and certainly, this wasn’t the kind of pep talk he’d expect to be having, especially not with Louis and Liam.

“We’ve all got to move on at some point,” Louis says. “I mean, yeah, we’ll always have the band, but as much as we might want it to be, that’s not our entire lives anymore. We really can’t afford it to be, and you know what? That’s all okay, too.”

“And you shouldn’t blame Haz for everything that’s been happening,” Liam says finally. “Yeah, fine, be mad at him for not talking to us about it. We were too. But in the end, the fact that we’re not moving forward as a band right now is on all of us. He might have started it, but we’re certainly not doing anything to fix it at the moment, are we?”

He cries, because of course he does, because he’s exhausted and he’s been working so hard and he hadn’t even given this all a second thought, hadn’t really given himself time to just understand, and it breaks his heart that he’s been so ignorant. 

Ace’s head perks up, and he immediately crowds Niall, climbing into his lap from where he’d been laying on the ground next to him before Louis and Liam can even stand up to comfort him, and he tries to cuddle him back to happiness. 

“Oh, Ni,” Louis says, and he and Liam settle for pushing their chairs on either side of his, and they hug him from there. “We know your heart’s in the right place. But maybe we have to think things through.”

“I’m not,” he tries. “I’m still your boy, I-”   
“We know you are, Ni,” Liam says gently. “But. You know, we understand if you can’t be all the time.”

“And the Bat-Hound is looking mad at us,” Louis murmurs, staring at Ace who’s glaring back at him, presumably angry because he’d made Niall cry. “Ay, Nialler. We love you. Things will be less shit soon.”

“You’re such a twat,” Niall tells him wetly, and Louis isn’t decent enough to not laugh, and the three of them plus Ace sit there for a bit in the too quiet, and their brotherhood has always been pretty weird, but for all its worth. As much as they are weird, they’d always worked, and he’d be at a loss without any of them in his life.

.

They wrap up filming a week into December, and it doesn’t get much colder in LA, and the last scene they shoot is simple enough, calm after everything, he supposes.

They’ve constructed a partial set on one of the sound stages, the rest to be added on later on in editing, and it’s the Titans’ new headquarters, sleek and clean and massive and Robin stands at the highest floor loft, overlooking the multitude of stories below him. John’s Cyborg is manually lifting furniture around, huge prop sofa on one arm and a fake television set under the other, and Dylan, pretending to be an elephant to be digitally added on later with piles of furniture on his back, is following him, and they go about fixing the new digs. Saoirse’s just stood off to the side, Raven lazily gesturing to the chairs and whatnot and magicking them, supposedly, to position, but there’s plenty of wires and timing sequences involved.

“You gonna help down here, white boy?” Cyborg yells from several feet below, and Niall snorts.

“But you’re doing so well without me,” he shouts back, and John maneuvers the TV a bit so he can raise up a middle finger up at him, and he sniggers at it to himself. Cue Starfire floating up to the loft, and coming to stand next to him. 

“Robin?” she says, adopting that same sweet tone, and he looks at her. “Is everything quite alright with you?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he says. “Why’d you ask?”

“It, it is nothing,” she says, and she comes a bit closer to hold his arm. “It is just, that is. I have observed that you have been more quiet. Is there anything that is causing you to be bothered?”

He looks at her, then looks back down, and he pauses. Breathes deeply, says, “We’re good at this, we can help people.”

“Yes,” she says, and her eyes brighten.

He sighs, and he looks out, knows that the Titans Tower will resemble a great ‘T’ like in the cartoon and comics, facade impractically almost wholly glass, but it will look really pretty sick. He looks out to the metaphorical, not-real-yet windows, and he tells her, “Don’t really know how I’m going to tell my boss I can’t come back to work with him.”

He feels her grip tighten on his arm, and she says, “Batman will understand.”

“You don’t know him like I do, Star,” he says, and he wants to laugh, because that’s a phrase he himself had said quite a bit, a few months ago. Now, he and Harry haven’t really patched things up quite yet, but they’d talked here and there. Things don’t feel quite so hostile, so. “He’s. Well, he won’t be happy.”

“And we will not be also if you choose to not stay here,” she tells him.

“Yeah, that’s the thing. I know I won’t be happy too, if I don’t stay here,” he tells her. It’s a moment, and when he looks back at her, she has a soft smile on her face. “What do you think I should do?”

She blinks, and then her smile widens into a grin. “Well, I suppose that for now, it would be wise if we help the others with the, what you say, ‘moving in?’”

“Yeah, I suppose, before RoboCop starts blasting at me,” he says, and she accompanies him to the lift. He’d be game to go over the ledge and just jump down to the ground, but they’re tired, and what’s the use of having an elevator if you end up not using it. 

“‘RoboCop?’” she repeats, confused expression on her face.

“Oh, um. Are you more familiar with ‘Astro Boy?’ Or maybe Alicia Vikander?” At her continually perplexed face, he just says, “Yeah, we’ll catch you up on everything.”

Close the doors on the lift, and they’re done. Drew calls for a wrap, and everyone erupts in cheers, and the five of them pile on top of each other, relieved and exhausted and they are done.

He manages to convince the costumers to sell him one of his suits, because he’s not going to leave without having one of them for whatever and whenever he so pleases, first of which was the wrap party. The others manage to keep suits of their own as well, and they all walk in there misbehaving and letting loose. Star of the night had been Ace, as he should have been, and Niall felt stupidly emotional about everything.

“I’m, shit, I’m going to miss you shits,” he tells them, admittedly very drunkenly, as the night had winded down and the five of them find themselves trying to fit into a loveseat meant for two maximum. Five superheroes on a tiny couch. “Wouldn’t have done this with anyone else. Thank you.”

Dylan breaks into tears, and everyone just sort of hugs each other. “You’re such a shit. I’m still gunning for a sequel. They haven’t turned me into a lion yet, I won’t take no for an answer.”

John ends up flopping on top of them all, spilling his drink on Niall purposely, and everyone wakes up a bit more and they cause a bit more mayhem, while they still can.

“So,” a few hours later, he's standing on the balcony overlooking the garden of the venue, and Saoirse and Barbara are holding hands as they come up to stand next to him. “Next time we see you, maybe you'll have a boyfriend?”

“That's really going to be the last thing you ask me before I have to go?” he sighs, and they roll their eyes at him, lean their heads on either of his arms. He sighs, and he considers their question all the same. “I don't know. Think I cocked up whatever we had.”

“What happened, anyway?” one of them asks him, and he actually hadn't told anyone about that night. No one had really asked about specifics, but their presumptions were generally right, and they just needed the gist of everything, then. 

“I yelled at him a bit, then I told him to leave,” he tells them. It kind of makes his chest feel horribly hollow. “I was. I wasn't very kind. Just felt everything too much.”

“But why did you yell?”

“Ay, man, I don't know. Must have been the sex, always makes me feel shit more,” he says shortly, impatiently, and they both make noises of general disgust. Saoirse even lets go of his arm, muttering  _ ‘okay, then.’  _ “I don't know. We were both really shitty. But I still love him, and I think I just made things more complicated over nothing.”

“So what's stopping you from fixing everything?” Barbara asks him. 

“I don't know what it is he wants,” he says, frustration and sadness disappointing him. “Just. He says he wants to try shit and he never tells me what it is he really wants. He doesn't know, or maybe he does and he just doesn't want to tell me outright.”

“Well,” Saoirse begins after a bit of a silence, her voice like a balm. “Maybe you should just ask him, next time.”

.

Louis demands a band meeting a few weeks after Harry’s tour wraps up in late December. Niall doesn't quite know what to expect, but. 

He gets to that same cafe a bit earlier than they'd agreed on, just gotten into the habit of being early, and he fully expects to have to wait a bit for the others. He doesn't at all expect to see Harry already in one of the more secluded corners of the room, nursing a coffee and staring at the table.

He thinks about leaving before he can see him, but he slaps himself metaphorically. Nothing will ever get solved if he keeps avoiding him, and he has missed him very much. Much more than he thinks Harry will ever know.

“Haz,” he walks up to the table, and immediately, when he hears his name, he looks up, and his entire demeanor just seems to brighten, but Niall can see the nervousness, the hesitance in the way he carries himself.

“Ni,” he greets him, stands and it's achingly obvious, the tension between them, but Niall fights against it. He pulls Harry into a hug, tight and it's the only way they know how, with their faces tucked into each other’s necks and arms trapping each other in.

“You look well,” he tells Harry once they separate, and he takes the corner seat next to him. “How was the rest of your tour?”

“Oh. Um, it was good,” Harry says, and Niall's chest aches when he looks at him. “But, uh, I'm quite over it? I don't really know about the whole, um. Solo aspect of everything. It's tiring.”

“Oh,” Niall reacts, and he can't say much else. He knows Harry isn't lying to him, knows him too well. He just doesn't know if there's any right way to respond. 

“And you? How was filming?” he's asking him, and Niall blinks at him before he realizes he's waiting for him to answer.

“Oh, sorry. Um. Uneventful, really,” he replies honestly, and Harry's the one who blinks at him this time, but he abandons the small talk. Tells him directly, “About the last time we talked. I’m sorry.”

Harry stares at him, then he shakes his head, “No, no, Niall. Please don't. You were right, I had time to think about it.”

“Well, so did I,” he says. “And it was hypocritical of me to call you out, but not realize that I was doing the same thing.”

“But I'm the one who started everything,” Harry says. “I, I didn't consider the three of you and just thought about myself. I'm sorry.”

“Either way, Haz,” he says, and he makes his tone a bit softer, more gentle. “It doesn’t make me any more right. I was wrong too. And I’m sorry for making you feel like shit, and just making you leave.”

“Niall,” he breathes, and when he doesn’t say anything else.

“I, um. I think it would be better if we just. Went back to the way we were,” he says quietly, and Harry stays silent, but his eyes widen and Niall can’t look at him. “Before we. Um. Just, let’s just be our old weird, before, um. Now, things are just weird, the real kind.”

“I don't. I don't know if I want to do that,” Harry tells him softly, and that's just the problem. 

“Then what do you know you really want?” Niall asks him. “Because. I don't know if we can just go back to snogging and shagging like nothing's happened. I don't know if I can do it. I need you to tell me what it is you really want to do. I don't want to be jerked around anymore.”

Harry doesn't say anything, and Niall watches his face crumple when he can't give him a straight answer. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Niall. I never realized-”

“Hey,” he says, rubs his thigh gently, and of course he's comforting him even though his own chest feels like it's about to rip open. “It's okay, Harry. It was a good few weeks. Thank you.”

“Niall,” he breathes, and his eyes are imploring and shiny. He takes hold of his hand, says, “That's not. I - I don't know.”

Niall pauses. “Harry? What-”

“Alright!” Louis announces his arrival, plopping down on the seat opposite Harry, and Liam isn't far behind, phone up to his ear as he finishes up a call. “Did you order those little toast things, Nialler?”

“Bruschetta, Tommo,” he corrects him, and he shakes his head, glances at Harry once. He's got his head bowed down, hands gripping his mug of coffee tightly and his cheeks ruddy. Knows that the moment is lost, and he feels frustrated, feels like he's getting nowhere.

“Right, yeah,” Louis says, must notice that he'd intruded in on them, and he has the mind to look remorseful about it. Distracts himself by flagging down a waiter and getting their regular orders while Niall just looks on at Harry.

“Okay, it’s obvious Louis ruined something just now,” Liam clears his throat and redirects the conversation a bit, “And we’ll talk about it later-”

“We know that you two have been shagging, by the way,” Louis mutters quickly, and Harry’s eyes widen, and he looks over at Niall, and Niall can’t offer him much more than a blank face and a nod to confirm. Harry closes his eyes then, and bows his head as he sighs. 

“Which we’re both okay with,” Liam elbows Louis’ ribs, “If you want to keep doing that, or not, or. Whatever, whatever you want to do, we’ll be okay with.”

“Yep,” Louis nods alongside.

“Yes, but right now,” he says, serious face on, “I think we’ve been gone long enough, don’t you?”

Niall and Harry stare at the both of them, they’re matching earnest but ill-hidden smiles on their faces, and Louis goes on, “Our sabbatical’s been extended quite a bit, yeah? Not, not that it’s a bad thing,” he says when he sees the way their faces go red with guilt. “I’ve enjoyed my two years off. But I’d really like to work again.”

“Me too,” Liam says, and the feeling starts seeping back into Niall’s limbs. “We’ve all had good breaks. Real productive.”

“Absolutely fruitful,” Louis adds.

“But I have a whole hard drive worth of songs that won’t work with anyone other than us,” he says.

“I have two,” Louis says just to outdo him, and everything’s clicking back into place, slowly.

“I,” Harry says quietly, and they all look at him, “I have a few, that I’ve written. For us.”

“Well,” Louis says, grinning and clapping his hands once, “I think that means - unless, Nialler, your movies-”

“No,” Niall shakes his head immediately. “They’ll never be as important as you. I’m in.”

“Right!” he beams, and he calls for four pints in celebration. Even announces to everyone in the cafe, “OI! We’re One Direction, and we’re back together! Yeah, you can go ahead and Tweet that, love-”

“Louis, christ,” Liam sighs, “haven’t even got a label or anything-”

“Ay, details, Payno,” he waves him off, smiling for all the phone cameras as the diners either break down in tears of excitement or screams. “So! What do we need to get this officially going?”

They stay in there for hours, discussing potential labels and a collective manager to handle their shit, proper publicity, possible comeback tour for the album, and the music. Possible producers, where to record, what they want to do, where they want to go, how they want to sound. Louis finishes three plates of bruschetta on his own as the discussion wears on, and Niall feels like he’s back in his own skin, properly, almost right where he needs to be.

Sun’s just gone down and Louis drags Liam out for a smoke break, but with the glare he gives Niall as they’re walking out, he knows he should talk to Harry, try to find where they stand.

“So,” he says, and Harry won’t look at him. He’s still nursing that same cup of coffee, awfully lukewarm and unappealingly acidic by now. “Harry? Please look at me.”

He watches him take a deep breath, and look up at the ceiling briefly, then his eyes meet his. They’re shiny with a terrified expression, and Niall knows that whatever it is they need to talk about, they really shouldn’t do it here, and it really isn’t the time. So he settles for reassuring him.

He brushes back his hair, and he leans forward to place a soft kiss on his forehead. He feels Harry jerk against him, but he doesn’t move away. Even feels his hand come up to graze his knee. 

“Whatever we are,” he says quietly, just for his ears, and he looks at him intently, hopes his honesty shows in his eyes. “We’ll  be alright. You’ll always have me, okay?”

Harry breathes in, the sound audible and he doesn’t say anything, but his hand finds Niall’s, and holds on tight. It’s not as much of an answer or conversation he’d been hoping to have, but for the moment. It is enough.

.

They start making music again after Harry’s 24th birthday, just a bit after the first trailer for the movie had come out. His Twitter feed had blown up and he separates himself from it all, excited as he may be, because he has work to do. Everyone's excited and they'd finally revealed that Batman was in the film,  forced to keep quiet about it for a year, and they’d shown a cut, a short few seconds of the fight he and Ben had shot early on, Robin versus Batman, and that was the moment. He'd called it early on, but that's what the media, the general public and the hardcore fans are freaking out about. 

Louis worked like a madman to get the label and the management details out of the way in as little time as possible, and they compile all the work they’d done separately, and go on from there, locking themselves in a cabin near Liam’s place in Wolverhampton. They work until they can’t, going well into the early hours of the morning, and it’s quick, much easier than Niall ever remembers it being, and eventually they have over fifty songs by the time May comes, and it will be a whole other ordeal to try to sort out which ones they want to include on the album, standard or deluxe tracks and whatever. 

They’d been working with several deadlines. They’d agreed on a late November release, like tradition, but Niall would have to take a few weeks off from the recording just as they were getting back into the norm of their old pace. _ ’The Teen Titans’  _ was set for a mid-July release, and promotion started as early as the second week of June, and he’s expected to keep on doing press until August.

“Oh, they mean business,” Louis comments with an impressed look when Niall reads out the details of the press tour, a few nights he's supposed to pack his bags and leave for the start of promotion. Junket days, photocalls, talk show appearances from Ellen to Cordo to Fallon and everyone and everywhere in between, travel days, flying from Japan to Ireland to Hungary to LA to New York, premieres and press conferences and interviews and he's already even done a few magazine covers already. He doesn't dare mention that one of them is GQ, otherwise he'll be made fun of for being a fake brooding git. 

“I…I never realized just how much I had to do,” he frowns at the calendar Ciara had made for him on his phone, and there’s something everyday, almost up to every hour. He doesn’t even think he’ll have time to really sleep. 

“They don’t play around,” Liam’s got his chin on his shoulder, reading through the dates. “But you’ll be back for my birthday, yay.”

“You’re such a twat,” Niall snorts, and he locks his phone to pick up his guitar, and get back to work. Harry doesn’t really say much, and Niall knows that he knows how it is, the grueling press tour. A superhero film is another level, though, and he’s exhausted just looking at the schedule for the next nine weeks, but that’s not his biggest concern at the moment.

They’d been alright, the two of them. They don’t have much time to do anything other than the music, and Niall’s not quite sure if he wants it that way, but in any case. They don’t have any opportunity to be alone together, and they can’t afford to fall apart now.

Night before he has to leave is a different story, though. He’s packed, has to be up by four in the morning to leave, and he’d done as much work done as he could before he absolutely cannot anymore. Louis had insisted on a special supper, so of course that meant Niall had to make it, grill some steaks and they’d spoiled themselves with beer, vodka, more beer and then wine for Harry. Liam and Louis hang off of each other as they trudge up the stairs to their respective rooms very much past drunk and off their faces by the end of the night, leaving Harry and Niall to clean up.

He wonders if it’s because they’re tired, or if he just doesn’t know how to put what he wants to say into precise words, but in any case. They both clean after their mess silently, but not uncomfortably. Harry gathers the bottles and the rubbish, and Niall rinses off their plates and glasses for the dishwasher. 

“Ni?”

“Hmm?’ he hums, turning his head to look at him. 

He looks rather shy, unsure, but the small smile on his face reassures Niall somewhat. “I, um. I was waiting for Lou and Liam to leave, because this is just for you, but-”

He goes over to the oven and inside, been keeping warm. A croissant bread pudding. 

Niall stares at the dish silently, his chest stupidly swollen and he's just so touched.

“Just, I just wanted to make you something, before you go,” Harry tells him quietly, “and. I know it's not much, and I know we have to talk and figure stuff out, but I just wanted. I'm sorry. I just wanted to give you this.”

“Harry,” Niall breathes, genuinely moved by the gesture. “I - thank you. I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Harry tells him quickly. “It’s just. It’s not much. I just wanted to give you something, and it might not mean anything, but I. I don’t know what I’m saying-”

“It means something, Haz,” he says. “Thank you. This means, it really does mean a lot. Thank you.”

“Anything for you, Ni,” he says, small smile on his face, and Niall returns it easily. Things feel lighter, almost immediately, like several weight’s had been lifted from his shoulder and the weird feeling in his chest he’s had for months since they’d parted ways.

Harry’s eyes drop down to his lips, and he knows what’s about to come. He doesn’t stop it from happening, lets Harry come forward and kiss him, and his feels his heart just race.

“I, I’m sorry,” he says, and Niall feels the words on his lips, the way his mouth moves gently against his mouth, and they’re not kissing anymore but they don’t move away from each other. “I made it weird.”

“What would I do if you weren’t,” Niall tells him, pulls him in and grips on to his waist, kisses him again, licks into his mouth and this isn’t very smart, but. They hold each other much too close, hands everywhere and he feels his chest ache with just how much he feels.

“Stay, ah,” Harry breathes, has to pause when Niall pulls at his bottom lip with his teeth, sucking it into his mouth, and he feels like he’s about to snap. “Stay with me tonight. Please.”

Niall doesn’t even pause to think about it, can’t help but feel even the slightest bit relieved that he’s being forward and actually asking for what he wants, for once. “Yeah, okay,” he replies almost instantly, shucking Harry’s shirt up and gliding his hands up his spine, up his weird old man back and his skin is so warm.

They leave the room a little bit less clean than Niall would have liked, but Harry is sucking on his neck and getting his glasses off his face, and he has his priorities. They struggle up the stairs together, not very willing to part long enough for the trip up to one of their rooms, and so they end up banging against the wall a bit and bruising and he’s sos sure Liam and Louis know exactly what it is they’re doing, doesn’t matter that they’re so far from sober and alert.

They end up in Niall’s room for the night, dropping down on top of the bed and struggling to strip themselves of their clothing, but it doesn’t take too long anyway. Niall gets his lips on every inch of him as they go, mapping his skin with his hands and tongue and Harry can’t stay still beneath him, trembling and trying to keep Niall close to him.

Niall tries to keep him quiet, with snogging and murmurs against his mouth and his throat amongst others, but he completely fails when he gets Harry’s obscenely hard prick in his mouth, and Harry yells, definitely heard throughout the little cabin and Niall doesn’t dare think about neighbors as he licks around the head. Can’t quite take him in fully, but he holds whatever he can’t get into his mouth with his hands, up and down motions that makes Harry whimper and reach down to get his own hands in Niall’s hair.

“Ni,” he breathes, groaning when Niall makes him turn over, yelling again when he gets his tongue on his rim, can’t quite stop his hips from shoving forward to rub off slightly on the sheets below.

“Don’t,” Niall says, before he comes back to lick around the hole. “Not until I’m in you. Please wait.”

“Yeah, sorry,” he says, his body shaking as Niall rims him, tongue slowly opening him up until it’s inside him fully. He jerks back when Niall brings his hands down on either cheek, not hard enough to be considered a slap, but he tightens around his tongue, and Niall moans, tries to get in deeper and harder.

He makes quick work of fingering him, getting him properly open for his cock. Slicking himself up and discarding the condom hesitantly when Harry asks, almost begs him to. Said he hadn’t had the time to be with anyone and Niall reads between his lines, knows he didn’t want to either, and he knows there’s been no one other than Harry for maybe years. When he pushes in, he gasps at the familiarity of everything. Brings Harry up to his knees, places his palm on Harry’s lower back, the other grasping on to the headboard, and he can’t admit to himself that this feels like home too. Doesn’t feel wrong, seems like something he’s meant to be doing, not even the sex particularly. Just being close and being with him.

Harry breathes hard beneath him, whining low in his throat and he pushes his arse back to meet Niall’s hips, until his cock is fully in and Niall can’t move for a moment. He squeezes his eyes shut, feels everything too much and he’s tight, tight around him and it makes him dizzy with want and affection and love.

“Ni,” Harry murmurs, and he doesn’t wait to move forward, Niall’s dick slipping out of his hole until just the tip keeps him open, and he slams back hard to meet his hips, and Niall gasps again when his arse slaps audibly against his skin. His hands just instantly find their way to his ass, feels it beneath his fingers, and Harry does it again, and again, setting up a pace and pounding himself on his cock.

“Fuck,” he says, and on the next roll of his hips, he pushes forward, meeting Harry halfway. Harry moans, not expecting the thrust, but he clenches around him and Niall holds his hips in place, the slight baby fat from the love handles giving around his fingers as he fucks him, ramming his cock into his arse, and it’s all good, amazing, but it’s not. It’s not enough, not the way he really wants it.

“Harry, can you turn-”

“Can I see your face?”

They speak at the same time, and they both pause.

“Ni?” Harry turns his face slightly, and he’s looking at Niall. His Bambi eyes don’t help, not when Niall’s still inside him, cock buried deep within his arse and rock hard still. “Did you. Do you mean that?”

“I, yeah,” he says softly, and he skates his hand down Harry's back, feels and sees his skin erupt in goose flesh. “Please, want to see your face too.”

Even with his slight bit of help, getting Harry to lie in his back is an ordeal, sheets tangling up with their legs and limbs flying out everywhere. They can't help but laugh when they get through, hiding their faces in each other's necks to try to muffle the noise, though there hadn't been any point to hide the sounds.

He arranges them, gets in between Harry's legs and lifts his legs to come up to wrap around his hips, and looks right at Harry as he pushes himself back inside him. Watches his eyes just close of their own accord and his mouth drop open in a moan, his back arching into him, and it's selfishly beautiful.

He gets his mouth on the line of his jaw as he fucks in and out of him, hears all of Harry's noises feed right into his ear and urge him on, asking for harder and faster and sometimes rougher, and Niall gives him everything. 

“Oh, oh god,” Harry breathes, his body jolting and Niall goes for the same angle, rolls his hips in over and over to rub against that same spot and drive him crazy. Harry pulls him down, wraps his arms over his neck and snogs him hard, and it's so warm around them.

“Harry,” he moans, scrubbing up Harry's hair in his hands and making him tilt his head back, and he plants his mouth right over his. Doesn't know if it can be counted as kissing, as they're mostly just breathing into each other's mouths, but it doesn't matter. 

He pushes into him, in and out and Harry reaches one hand over to smack against his arse, palm over the curve of the cheek and wordlessly, thought not silently, urge him to fuck in harder, and he complies easily. He pauses, shifts slightly, and he knows the angle is completely right when Harry just loses it, throwing his head back and yelling and moaning like anything, throat going hoarse with it, his arse just squeezing his length so tight. 

“Niall,” he groans, whines and whimpers and sobs when Niall brings his head down to bite on his nipples, licking over them and he knows how sensitive they are, knows how he just seems too lose his mind when they're touched and played with like this. 

“Come on,” Niall prods, murmuring it against his jaw, fucking in faster and he reaches down, barely even touched his cock when Harry comes, shouting as endless ribbons of white just shot out from the tip. He clenches his arse tight, so tight around Niall, and he has to grit his teeth, knows he's close but he needs just a bit more. 

“Oh,  _ fuck,” _ Harry says on an exhale, and he's sweating all over and their are weird fluids between their torsos, and he's shivering, trembling from his orgasm, but he spreads his legs wide, wider. Squeezes around his erection once, and tells him, “Fuck me. You're not done. In me, come on.”

He squeezes again, harder, and Niall grunts, shoving forward involuntarily, but Harry moans at the extra push, spreads his legs even wider, and Niall takes his word for it. Takes his hands and links their fingers, though haphazardly, and pins them above Harry's head, and fucks him harder and harder still.

Harry moans beneath him, taking the pounding so well, hole fucked out and loose and wanting everything still and he's spent, but Niall knows he's still hard, sensitive, everything is sensitive. 

It's doesn't take long. Harry closes his eyes, eyebrows furrowed in pleasure and he murmurs his name, softly, like a prayer, and he can't. Niall just fucks him fast and hard and to no specified pace, just in in in and he comes inside, spilling within him.

He tries not to collapse on top of him, but his elbows shake and his breathing goes short, and Harry sees. Gets his hands on Niall and he maneuvers them to lay on their sides instead, and he kisses him immediately, everything on that edge of sensitive pleasure and pain.

They jump when there's a banging on the wall, and Louis tries to yell at them but the sound isn't quite discernible. They don't have much in them to be embarrassed, and they both take one look at each other and laugh instead, curling into each other as Louis just goes on making more noise of a sort.

“Let's give him a bit more to complain about,” Niall mumbles, and Harry's laughter does down a bit and firms into a surprised grunt when Niall prods at the come on his rim with a finger.

“Great, ah. Great idea,” he groans, arching back onto the mattress as Niall goes down on him, his body jumping at the first swipe of his tongue on his hole. 

They try to fall asleep after, but Niall can't. He watches Harry curl up into him and close his eyes, and then he's out like a light, and Niall doesn't know how to feel. He closes his eyes, tries for his own sake because he doesn't think he'll be getting much rest for the next few months. 

He's had his eyes closed for what feels like hours, and he's drifting, but never really falling asleep, and that's when he feels the body next to him stir. He keeps his eyes closed on instinct, and he knows Harry's awake, but he doesn't move. He expects, maybe, for him to get up, go back to his own room. Something along those lines, even though Harry had been the one to ask him to stay with him for the night. It's all fine, he tells himself it is. He'll be alright, they both will be.

But Harry doesn't leave. Rather, he feels his warmth come nearer, nearer still, and then. The first touch of his lips, gentle, on his eyelid. Niall fights not to move, and Harry moves on to the other, then his forehead. He leaves a trail of kisses down wherever his skin is exposed, his neck, his shoulder, arm, his back, his hip, and Niall tries to keep still, stays asleep, but it's hard.

“I know you're awake,” Harry murmurs then, and of course he would know.

He doesn't know why, exactly, but he's afraid to open his eyes and face him properly, and he doesn't remember a time he'd felt so vulnerable. But when Harry bites gently at the curve of the muscle of his arm, mumbling his name against his skin, he can't keep it up. 

He breathes, in then out, and he blinks slowly, and Harry's eyes are bright as they look back at him.

They stare at each other, barely inches apart really, and they were fucking just hours ago, but he doesn't think he'd ever felt this intimate with anyone, and he’s fully aware of what a cliche kind of thought it is. Doesn’t stop it, anyway. 

Niall sighs at Harry's questioning, waiting gaze, and he pulls him in even closer. Kisses him gently, and he feels, sees the tension just leave Harry's shoulders, and he kisses back, his hands coming up to just press gently on Niall's chest.

They don't do much more than just kiss, lips moving languidly against each other for hours and they just hold each other close. His lips are numb, but he doesn't stop, and Harry doesn't either, and it's a weird thing for him, just to be kissing and kissing for hours on end, and he's used to doing more, but he doesn't want to, now. Can't remember the last time he'd just kissed someone for so long, like this.

Harry eventually falls asleep after Niall makes him lie on his back, and leaves short little kisses on his lips, one after the other, as he rubs his palm in circular motions in his stomach. Niall smiles to himself when he feels Harry's breath evening out as he slips into sleep, because he and his dog really are too similar. 

He needs to leave, and the thought of leaving now. He has to steel himself, make himself get out of bed to take a shower because he sorely needs it, and he feels worse already.

He takes the quickest shower, and puts on the clothes he'd laid out the day before, and moves to take his phone from the nightstand, and he sees Harry stir a bit.

So. “You're not asleep.”

He shuffles again. “I was, but I made myself wake up. Wanted to see you off.”

Niall blinks. Swallows his stupid heart back down into his chest from where it had been lodged up in his throat, and he says weakly, “Well. Okay.”

He watches Harry sit up slowly, rubbing the sleep off his eyes, his short-long hair everywhere, and Niall doesn't want to leave. Harry cranes his neck up, blinking and looking at him, and Niall doesn’t know what else to do, other than hold his chin, tip his head back a bit more, and kisses him again, as if the hours of doing just that weren’t enough for him, and he knows they weren’t. 

“I’ll see you in a few months,” he says quietly, and Harry blinks a bit, before nodding. Leans his head back and puckers his lips a bit, wordlessly asking for another snog, and Niall snorts at him before giving it to him, easily, and nothing's really been made clear. He's got no real idea of where they stand, and it's just. A lot of confusion.

.

Press tour begins in Japan, with a press conference then a premiere the same night, and it hits him that this is the first time he’ll be seeing the final finished product with the effects and everything. He’ll be seeing himself onscreen, as an actual superhero, and it makes him a bit dizzy with several emotions he doesn’t know the names to. The other guys handle it gracefully, and the girls just as well, and he thinks it’s only because they’re there he gets through it all.

They have the premiere in some massive arena, and Niall is dressed stupidly fancy, was shoved into a slim dark maroon suit and black shirt to echo Robin’s colors and his hair attacked and styled into a loose quiff and they’d made him wear his glasses and he’s in a daze. Saoirse and Barbara are dressed in different hues of purple and John in gunmetal gray and Dylan in the darkest green he’s ever seen, and they walk the carpet together along with Drew and everyone and he’s used to red carpets, but this is something else entirely.

They do the press line afterwards, and he watches Saoirse just not give a fuck and get rid of her heels before her first interview, and he laughs, sees her roll her eyes at him, and he talks to as many people as he can. Questions about acting and another career and One Direction coming back together and several things that get repeated, over and over, and it’s not exactly fun, but he stays springy, keeps himself light and smiling even though everything’s blinding him. Takes more time with the fans hoards of them behind the barricades, grin permanently on his face for multitudes of selfies and his hand cramped up for autographs, and this, he's better with. 

They’re escorted inside to the full, packed arena, and it’s a lot to see. Then the film plays after the cast and Drew introduce it to very, very loud applause, and he finally gets to see it. He holds on to Saoirse’s and Dylan’s hands on either side of him as it begins, his grip tightening all throughout, and.

He’d known it would be good, there wasn't any way for it not to be, with Drew directing and the others being as amazing as they were, nevermind about him. But it was so much more than he’d even dared to expect. He’d been shocked to hear the audience react, very viscerally, to his scenes, not just because it was Japan, and they tend to be more quiet. More because it was  _ him _ they were cheering or crying for, and it’s honestly hard to watch himself acting on such a big screen. Extremely different to watching him be himself in a documentary and mucking about, definitely very strange to watch himself get beaten up, or doing all these stunts he knows he absolutely cannot do. But it seems like he’s the only one with the problem of watching him, when he can barely get past the thought of how pale his skin really looks against jet black hair. He really doesn’t want to think anything of it, but when Dylan kisses his cheek after Dick and Bruce’s first argument, he blushes anyway to the wordless, no less affectionate compliment. 

It’s a huge film, massive in its scale and the detail and work that had been put into every aspect of it, but it’s not as big as the other recent superhero films, a bit more quiet and more human and more grounded, and Niall appreciates that Drew made it like that. It doesn’t exactly fit into the genre, not the way it’s shaping up to be now with all its bombasticity and need to impress and outdo, but that’s what makes him so excited about it, and he's so proud that he'd been a part of it. Hasn't quite felt this sense of accomplishment since the last record before the hiatus had been finished. Almost been three years, and so much has happened since then.

They get a roaring standing ovation when the credits roll, and he feels a wave of relief wash over him. He feels several people slap his back, and he does the same to everyone. He grabs Dylan’s shoulder, feels Barbara crowd him from the other side, and they all converge into a happy, proud, satisfied pile. 

They go on from there, work nonstop promoting and traveling the world and doing junkets and interviews everyday with people from all over the world, and he’d been right to expect not much sleep. They meet up with Liam in Dublin for a homecoming premiere of sorts, then more junkets, more interviews. Hungary, for Barbara, then London. All the boys had made it for the premiere in Leicester, and they attack him on the carpet and Louis and Liam make fun of him endlessly,  _ “proper movie star, proper Hollywood twat-”  _ and Harry stays quiet, but the discrete hand on his waist and the warm smile on his face tell him he’s proud. He doesn’t mention how he chokes up at the Robin ‘R’ insignia pins they’ve all got on their lapels in his honor, but they know him too well and see right through him, and they just attack him with more hugs.

Harry makes it again for the Los Angeles premiere, shows his support full on and Niall feels shame, that he hadn’t done the same for him when his film had come out, but it was another time and things were different a year ago. Now, he’s just thankful, and though they still haven’t figured out their situation completely, it means everything to him.

He knows how well the movie is doing overseas, how early reviewers are severely optimistic for the film’s chances, praising direction and acting and action and chemistry and he can’t quite help but be optimistic right along with them. He’d read one article that called the Titans  _ ‘DC’s “CA: The Winter Soldier,”’  _ and he doesn’t know what that really means, but he’s taking it as a compliment, because that movie was sick.  

They’re finishing up in New York, final premiere and final appearances before the North American release, and he’s the last to appear on the Tonight Show, some of the others being scheduled to appear on earlier dates. He’d had to shake himself when Ciara had told him he’d be first billing at a dinner Saoirse was having in her flat in the city, his first reaction to it being, “But. Not even  _ Adele  _ had first billing on Fallon.”

Ciara rolls her eyes at him, and she asks him, “The producers are asking if you’re willing to play a game.”

“Not a Lip Sync Battle, is it?”

“No, they just want ‘Password,’” she tells him. “They have Joe Jonas as your partner, far as I know.”

“Oh, then yeah. I’m down,” he says, fork tussling with John when he tries to get at Niall’s pudding and humming ‘Toothbrush’ under his breath. 

“Okay, good,” she says, taking her pint and knocking it back easily. Then she throws a USB at his lap and says as she makes to go leave the table, tells him, “Study that, got your part for a barbershop quartet bit-”

“Wh-what?” he says, snapping his neck to look back at her, and John finally manages to steal his dessert away. “Wait!”

“You’ll be fine, it’s a mashup. A 1D song, and. Something, I dunno,” she waves her hand back at him, not looking back at him and linking arms with Barbara, and he just stares at them.

It’s how he finds himself a week later in one of the dressing rooms of Studio 6B of 30 Rockefeller, fitting on a blazer with vertical stripes of green, yellow and red, complete with a matching straw boater hat and red bowtie, and people are pinning things on him and he’ll be going in for rehearsals in a bit. He watches Ciara talking to A.D., the head writer of the show, by the door, and when she walks back into the room a bit later, she’s got this weird look on her face, and Niall can’t read it. 

“What’s the matter?” he asks her, and she shrugs a bit, before answering.

“They just told me Joe’s not going to be the one playing with you, as it turns out,” she frowns.

“Oh. Um, are we still playing?”

“Oh, yeah, you are,” she says, still scowling. “You’re still good with it, yeah? They want to keep who you’re playing with a surprise, idiots.”

“It’s fine, and don’t be mean, I like it here,” he frowns at her. 

“You say that now,” she says, but he’s going through the lyrics in his head, recalling the raw recording and practicing his parts for the segment.

They rehearse, and it’s good, a good crowd to be with. The Roots are always cool, and Jimmy as spazzy and enthusiastic about everything in the best way as ever, and DNCE are just chilling around and they’re so effortlessly effortless.

By the time they start taping at 5pm, he’s more relaxed, and he’s looking forward to the rest of the show. They do the number, ’Best Song Ever’ mashed up with ‘Cake by the Ocean’ in the ridiculous striped jackets with Joe and Jimmy and the Ragtime Gals, and he’s changing into the suit of choice for today, dark blue to match his eyes, a very deep burgundy slim tie and he walks out to an enthusiastic crowd on their feet, something that he knows doesn’t happen much for these types of shows, and he smiles and keeps on smiling, waving over to the band and sitting down to loud loud cheers. 

“They love you!” Jimmy says, and the audience just cheers more, louder and Niall smiles at them, laughing to himself nervously.

“I don’t deserve it,” he says, and Jimmy protests immediately, “Ay, thank you. Thank you.”

It’s mostly small talk first, the way he knows is the Tonight Show style, talking about the barbershop quartet bit and they’re bringing out a stupid photo he’d taken of Ace in the Bat-Hound costume that he’d posted on Instagram. They talk about him for awhile, how he’s in Ireland now but he thinks it’s too cold, been spoiled by the warm LA weather, and the origins of his name and little things in between.

Jimmy brings up One Direction, because how could he not, about how they just announced they were back in the cafe while they were eating and how  _ “cool and awesome that was, I love you guys.” _

“Yeah, um. Wasn’t supposed to happen like that,” Niall says, shaking his head as he tries to get more comfortable in the seat, to some laughter. “I mean. If you know Louis, that’s just. It’s something he’d do, it’s his thing.”

“And how is the band?” he asks, “Been a few years since you were all together, right?”

“Yeah, it’s, um,” he says, thinking of the right words, and it’s harder to fill up six minutes of actual Q and A on your own. “We’re figuring things out, trying to get back into the, um, the flow of things, but we’re good. We’re doing really well and making a lot of music and we’re really excited to come back.”

“You’re making music?”

“Yeah, we are. I mean, I’m not at the moment,” he says, making a weird face at himself and Jimmy laughs in that loud way he does, “But we have loads of songs and we’re in the process of making the album, so, soon. You’ll be hearing from us really soon.”

“Will we know when?” he asks, his face lighting up as Niall speaks, and a lot of the crowd cheers for some news.

He blinks, and looks over to where Ciara’s standing by, and she’s shrugging, mouthing,  _ ‘Not my domain,’  _ and he figured fuck it, Louis is his boss now, technically, he’ll deal with him later if it comes to that. 

“Um, I guess you can expect sometime in November,” he says, looking back at Jimmy and sees him clapping his hands excitedly, eyes wide, and the audience gets loud again.

“So, you’re definitely not breaking up,” he asks when they’re given the cue, and Niall shakes his head immediately.

“No, definitely not,” he says, and the audience is at their loudest at that. “They’re my boys, I’m their boy, and most of all, we’re the fans’ boys,” he pauses again when the cheering gets extraordinarily deafening. “We’d never leave them for long, this break was long enough, and we’re always going to be here for them.”

“So, no more movies? Because this screams franchise,” he says, bringing out a picture of his Robin character poster, all brooding and stupidly majestic, and Niall snickers to himself amidst the screaming, shaking his head.

“I, aha, I’ll always be happy to do another one of these, but I think that’s it as far as acting goes,” he says, and Jimmy starts protesting again, and he cuts back in. “I can’t act, I can’t! I’m better at my day job, so I think this is all I’ll do.”

Jimmy then goes to compliment him profusely, saying how he’d seen the film and how it was just so different and good and how he didn’t even recognize him, meaning it in the best way. Goes on talking about how one minute, he’s fighting and kicking everyone's ass, then he’s yelling at Batman and then the next moment he's crying and  _ “you were just so good,”  _ and Niall can't quite get a word in, but he honestly doesn't know what he'd say to all the compliments and praise, either. He knows Jimmy is extremely nice, will compliment anyone for the smallest thing, but as he goes on and on, Niall would hope to think that he really means it. 

“-And I’m not even giving you a chance to talk,” he realizes, laughing in embarrassment and touching his arm, and Niall just shrugs, laughs along with him, because he doesn’t mind. “Sorry, I just have a lot to say. Just wanted to say nice things right at your face.”

“Not a problem,” he waves it off easily, smiling quietly. Tries to take the nice things as they come.

They show a clip, same one from San Diego, and they’re setting up for the game, and that’s when they tell him who his partner is, and he fights not to let his reaction show on his face when they tell him. He looks over to Ciara, whose face is just as blank as his for a moment, and he watches it slowly just. React.

“Ay, it’s not worth it,” he says, stopping her when she makes to go over to say something to the directors and producers. “It’s fine.”

“They blindsided us!”

“And what are we supposed to tell them?” he says. “‘Sorry, I can’t play with my bandmate who I’ve been sleeping with because things are kinda awkward between us?’ Nah, fuck that, Haz and I are fine. They'll just ask why I don't want to, that'll be a whole other shitshow. And I don't mind playing with him.”

“Right, like you two are completely fine,” she snorts, and he pouts at her. “Figure your shit out!”

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do?”

“Sulking and feeling sorry for yourself,” she says, and he just frowns again. “Just ask him. Ask him!”

He can’t really reply as they’re making him go back to the set, to the setup they have for the game, and they’re putting on a sticker with his name written on, with ‘Mullingar, IRL’ underneath, on the left side of his chest for show. He asks Jimmy before the cameras roll, “Who thought of getting Harry to play with me?”

“He called us up,” he replies. “He didn't tell you?”

Niall shakes his head, but he has his game face on, been getting real good at it as well, and they're back to taping the show. 

Jimmy introduces Joe as his partner to much applause, and Niall salutes him, shakes his hand a moment later, and they've got a cue card up for him to read from to introduce him.

He steels himself, goes off from the introduction written because it's crazy long, says instead as he's prompted, “He doesn't need an intro, sorry, it's too long. It's Harry Styles-”

He hears Jimmy, particularly, and everyone else break down in laughter when he skips the blurb they'd written for him to say, and Harry comes out from backstage, dressed in leather skinny jeans and that pale blue Gucci shirt shirt everyone seems to love so much, his hair quiffed softly and he's beaming as he comes out to thunderous applause and screams, and he shakes everyone’s hands, and pulls Niall into a tight, long hug that last for too long, and he takes the seat next to him on their side.

“It's like,” Joe comments as the crowd goes on cheering, “like a boyband battle.”

“Boyband generations,” Jimmy says, can't stop giggling as the show goes on. 

The game is explained to them, simple enough. A player from each team gets a password, for each turn they give their respective partners one word clues to guess the password. It’s fun, and he’s competitive like anything, and he knows he and Harry should be good at this, they’re good at everything together.

Niall pauses at the first word he's given, and he thinks, before he says, “Big,” while gesturing to himself, belatedly realizing how that must look. “Wait-”

Damage is done, and everyone onstage and in the audience is in hysterics, and he laughs at himself, tries to stave off the embarrassment because he didn't mean for it to sound like he was indicating that he had a big dick, and he knows Harry's actually evil enough to say that as his answer, just because. Ciara's rolling her eyes at him, and he knows several of the producers are wondering if they should air this bit or if they'll have to tape another word, but nonetheless, there will be people who'll Tweet about it in the audience.

He goes with it, shaking his head and just tries to save face while he can, “Big,” he says, shrugging when everyone just laughs again, and he doesn't care, just gestures to himself again, then at Harry, then back to himself, and widens his eyes, hopes Harry gets it. 

Harry's smiling, grinning and trying not to laugh and failing horribly, his eyes scrunched up and his cheeks going somewhat red, but he doesn't fail Niall. Says, “Spoon.”

Niall's so pleased he kisses his cheek, hard, and then everyone’s laughing, Jimmy's laughing next to them in surprise and just yelling, because  _ “How did you get that? From  _ **_that_ ** _?” _

“Everything we do,” is Niall's simple answer, and Harry looks at him then, eyes bright and the smile on his face small, private and just for him. They win, easily, by several points, and it's all good, he knew they would, because they were the best team, no matter what. 

He's done taping, and he takes his time to thank everyone and shake their hands, and then he, Ciara and Harry leave the stage and go to the hall where the dressing rooms are.

Once they'd made their way to the room assigned to him, there's an immediate heaviness in the atmosphere, and it's not particularly uneasy. Just, there are things that definitely need to be.

Ciara whistles, announces, “O- _ kay, _ good work. Um, I'll just be, uh. Checking out the gift shop. Two pints of Tonight Dough?”

“Make that three,” Niall tells her, and she nods, leaving the two of them in the room. 

“I, um, it’s okay, you didn’t need to get me one,” Harry tells him.

“Oh, I know,” Niall says. “I’m going to need two, now that I’m really off of the regimen. I’m splurging today. Want some ice cream.”

“Right,” he says, smiling. A bit of quiet, then, “I’ve seen the movie twice now.”

“Yeah? Lucky, but I’ve seen it, like maybe five, now?” Niall shrugs, and Harry just beams back.

“Yeah, but I’ll bet you I’ll outdo you pretty soon, once it’s out everywhere,” he says. “I loved it.”

“You did?”

“It’s amazing,” he says, and his eyes go so soft when he looks at Niall. “And. I knew you’d be great. I told you, didn’t I?”

“I don’t know if I’m that good,” he says, cheeks pinking up, but Harry’s shaking his head already.

“Better than I’d even expected,” he tells him, and he sounds so sincere it makes Niall’s chest ache. “Like. You were born to be him. You were in your natural form. A real superhero.”

Niall doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t. He clears his throat, tries, and he blinks back the sting in his eyes as he breathes deeply.

“What are you doing here, Haz?” he asks eventually, and the travel and wear is finally getting to him. 

He stills for a moment, but he straightens up quickly enough, replies, “They needed someone to play with you.”

“Don't lie to me, please,” he says. His heart hurts. “I asked, they told me you were the one to call them. What are you really doing here?”

Harry won't meet his gaze, and he stays silent. Stares down at his feet and the wall and the paintings on the wall and even the mirror, but never at Niall.

He breathes, breathes deep and he feels his eyes just moisten unpleasantly and he hates it, just wants to know, just. Would finally like some answers, and he knows this is his fault too, but he feels like he can't move forward if he doesn't know what Harry just wants from him.

“Harry,” he says quietly, gently, though he's so frustrated. “Tell me what it is that you want from me. Just tell me.”

Harry blinks rapidly, stares right down, and shakes his head.

“Haz,” he says shortly, and he wouldn't lose his temper on him, not ever, but he'd been waiting months to know. He wants to think he deserves that much, in the least. “I. I don't know what you want. Tell me what you want, just tell me and we'll figure it out from there.”

“I don't know.”

“No, I don't believe that for a moment,” Niall snaps finally, and he doesn’t want to, but it’s been a long year and a half. “I know you, not all that well anymore, I realize now. But I know enough, and you know what you want. Just tell me what it is-”

“You, alright?!” Harry says, just short of shouting it and his eyes are wide and his voice broken. “I - christ, I refuse to cry, I won’t,” he says, fanning his face and sniffing and not really succeeding. 

Niall’s heart races in his chest, and he feels a similar heat that makes his eyes water, and he tries to come forward, tries to hold him, but Harry shakes his head.

“I just want you, okay?” he says, lips quivering as he tries to speak. “I want you, in any way you’ll let me, I just. I want to be with you and follow you, and I want to love you and be there for you and I love you, isn’t that enough? I love you-”

He inhales deeply, the wet sound from his nose so audible and he’s such a dramatic twat, and his eyes are just so shiny with tears that aren’t quite shed yet and his chin wobbling. “You, that’s what I want from you. Just you.”

Niall watches him, stares at him for a moment, and his heart slows, but doesn’t quite go back to normal. Still races in his chest, but in a comfortable, happy pace, and he smiles.

“See?” he says gently. “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

Harry frowns at him, and it looks severely endearing with his watery eyes and slightly ruddy complexion, but regardless, he falls easily into Niall’s arms, and when they kiss, it feels a lot like home.

.

.

When his phone rings that morning, the first thing that comes floating through his mind is to throw it across the room.

He groans at its incessant noise, and he really doesn’t want to answer it, content to let the call pass and just wrap Harry up in a weird, completely lovely duvet burrito, sandwich if Ace decides to join in and jam himself between them. Sun’s just shining gently into the room and Harry’s skin is so so warm against his and he’s so pretty and he could kiss the whole breadth of his back and everywhere else and his thighs burn deliciously, but the ringing doesn’t let up.

He groans again, but he reaches over, blindly swipes his finger across the screen, doesn’t bother to look at the caller ID. “Hello?” he mumbles sleepily.

_ “Oi, idiot.” _

“Ay, Ciara, I just got back home, can’t this wait til later?” he groans, hides his face in Harry's hair, and he doesn't know how he's still sleeping. 

_ “The studio? Yeah? Whatever, they want to meet with you, some contract shit.” _

“I  _ just  _ got back,” he whines, and Harry stirs, but doesn't wake, just shuffles back and doesn't stop until Niall's chest is flush with his back. “They can fire me later, I just want to sleep.”

_ “As if they'll fire you, you twat,”  _ she snorts at him, and he wants to ignore her, but that tends to leave him in trouble more often than not.  _ “Want me to read you some stats? They're sending a ton in, all very impressive.” _

“Um. No, I don't really want to-”

_ “You're sounding real sunshine-y, that's nice,”  _ she says dryly.  _ “Know what's even nicer? Having a movie make 820 mill in two weeks, you idiot.” _

He blinks awake. “It's made  _ that  _ much?”

_ “I mean, it's no Civil War, but,”  _ he can almost hear her shrug on the other side of the phone.  _ “Number one movie worldwide, and it's not actual shit! 90% on Rotten Tomatoes, that's nice-” _

“They're being nice to Niall, right?” Harry asks as he turns over to face Niall, cuddling in close and blinking blearily at him, but he's got this sleepy smile that he can't not smile back to.

_ “Oh, they're so up his arse, it's hilarious,”  _ she says, and Niall frowns.  _ “Let me see, okay. That Roger Ebert bloke called you, christ, a ‘revelation,’ that can't be real. ‘Certainly the best film Robin by the largest margin possible.’” _

“That's great,” Harry says, smiling, then he can't hold back the yawn he lets out, “Like. Really nice. That's good. Yay.”

_ “What a bunch of dickbags,”  _ she mutters, and Niall frowns again. Certainly too much for this early on in the morning on his side of the world.

“Roger Ebert’s been dead for years,” he says blankly, and he hangs up on the phone, and he'll deal with her wrath later on.

“Congrats,” Harry mumbles to him sleepily, grinning tiredly and letting the vowels and the ‘s’ drag on.

Niall just grunts in reply, pulls him in, and they're asleep again.

**Author's Note:**

> [Me.](http://www.castlenarry.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> [Tumblr post.](http://castlenarry.tumblr.com/post/144727986840/canon-actor-niall-in-spandex-basically-boy)
> 
>  
> 
> Come cry with me about spandex Niall [here,](http://www.castlenarry.tumblr.com/ask) or message me! I always reply.


End file.
